A rare word

Promise,

when I’m around you,

I use my words fearfully.

Tiptoeing softly on a glass roof.

I safeguard uncertainty

in a willful ignorance.

I cradle the anxieties

to avoid a thought of not being your choice.

I choose not to know,

I choose not to ask.

That repels me.

I’d rather wear my word as a badge of honor,

blustering sound to confuse the armies.

I’d call the storms

and reign the waves.

I’d awake the gods

and mage the clouds.

I’d squall the mountains

to end all impossibility.

I’d open wide the world

like a heart of a novice.

If only you would give me yours.

Promise.