Options

I long to meet you again; that first day.

Catching each other by surprise.

Beats skipped beats

Both unsure of it all.

Always having that option.

Naïve and innocent; scared to love and be loved.

Masquerading as nonchalant.

I always had the option

To hold your hand for just a second longer.

I would study the freckles on your hand; the story they told.

Fingers intertwining.

Holding on to something…

The Illusion; the potential..

Despite the hopeless.

Just giving me the option.

How were we to know?

Changing our minds everyday.

How was I to know?

If we were to meet again.

Would I still have that option?

Open that door and walk away?

Or close that door and ask you to stay.