Are You Still There
Are You Still There?
We were like dancers, on our toes, together gently, apprehensively, barely touching, averting our eyes, talking in riddles.
Our minds pulled, tugged, reaching out to entwine, bodies keeping their distance. Played out. Moment by moment. It wasn’t meant to be. Or it was. Neither knew.
Shall we jump? Shall we?
Play the safe. Or shall we feel the bristle of discomfort, the ache of fear, the peaks of excitement, the rumble, the rise, the wild and crazy and wide eyed notion of what could be? The blinding mist, the endless blackness, the twists, the turns, the bottomless wells.
No. Let’s wait a while. Let’s let the feeling pass. Let’s see what else there is. Let’s not lose ourselves. Let’s not be remiss or flippant or quick about sensibilities, reality, integrity and decorum. Let’s wait.
To jump would be a fools game. Only a fool would take a chance. Only a fool would trust a mere feeling. A mere pull. A quickening heartbeat. A mere whisper of what could be.
Let’s wait a while. Let it pass. Our chance will come again. I’m sure of that. Are you there? There’s always another chance. Isn’t there? Another time. Hello? Are you still there?
Can you hear me? There’s always another chance. Isn’t there?
Are you still there?
more by EMMA ROBERTS
photograph by Ron SHire An Editor
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