If I give my heart
to the only thing
I put my hope in
—will it hurt
when the world tells me
that I am not enough?
—will it villify
this road I took
without looking back?
—will it siphon the joy—
the gladness—
out of my hands?
I am afraid
that if I give my heart
—all of it—
to this one thing
I could ever hope for
that it's going to kill me
when the world tells me
that I am not enough
I am afraid
of losing the only thing
keeping me afloat
in the vast waters of life
—of the nebulous joy
being siphoned under me—
I am afraid
of what would happen
if I give my heart
to live fully
only to have it swept
under my feet
—leaving me alone,
dead and hungry