I shy away
after much longing,
afraid of myself,
afraid of you.

And why?
I can cast a web
of glittering words
around any prospect,
draw it in,
shimmering,
with my mind;
but this is no preparation
for the naked reality
of you standing before me.

Beauty, Beauty,
I demur, I curl up
like a dying leaf
waiting for the
water which will
never come.

I am afraid,
and my heart dies
a little every day
as the fear pushes
you away from me,
me away from you,
and another bright
future dies on the
nourishing vine.