isn’t it

and isn’t it just like me?

heart heavy with insecurities

borrowing trouble,

falling in love,

wondering if he’ll

ever feel the same way

about me

and I know it’s just like me

to fall in love so easily

while jumping scared

at the slightest sound

and ready to run

as soon as my feet

hit the ground

because love

has always felt

like danger

precarious

in a way

I can’t explain

still, I crack my heart wide open

for love to step inside

and instead of planting flowers

it scrapes my heart hollow

bleeding and raw,

and nothing to feel

but sorrow

for the walls of my world

have been rebuilt from dust

more times than I care to say

and the cracks in my heart -

painstakingly glued -

could crumble

at the slightest sway

but isn’t it also just like me

to laugh in the face of danger?

to feel that rush of adrenaline -

move toward the explosion

instead of away,

half hoping

it’ll happen

again?

and maybe it is just like me

to worry and wonder and fret

because my heart was built

to care too much -

to keep loving

when I’ve lost

every bet

so maybe someday “love”

won’t feel so much like pain

and I’ll hear those three words

and know they’re sincere

and never have

to run away

again.