We’re standing on opposite sides of the tracks staring at each other. You’re more patient than I. But you’re also more nervous than I. The trains bolt past each time one of us tries to cross over to the other side. If you’re so scared, stay there. I’ll come to you. But then again, if you’re so scared maybe you’re not the one. Cowards are hard to love. I should know. I am one.
You look both ways, waiting for a safe moment, the right moment to come to my side, while I’m fixated on you. I’m torn. Do I stay here and let you find your version of brave while I take in your perfections, or do I save you the trouble and simply go to you.
That’s always been the trouble with us. We can’t decide who should make the first move. You with all your patience and timing, you call me impulsive and tactless. This isn’t the time or place, you say. Just wait, you tell me. I can’t wait forever and I’d rather risk getting smashed by a train than be left on this side forever. Secretly, I know what you’re afraid of. I know you’d prefer I stay back on this side. Perhaps if I stay here long enough, I’ll get tired and simply walk away. That would make things easier for you. You’re not scared of the train. You’re scared of me. You always have been.
Maybe, I’m taking it a little too personal. You’re not just scared of me. You’re scared of everyone that wants to love you. Anyone whose willing to take the risk for you frightens you. Love scares you.