PLUNGING

 PLUNGING

I plunge the id deep beneath my skin,  

Hoping no one tallies the unseen within.  

What if someone calls me out, laid bare?  

What if she, with her piercing, gentle stare,  

Sees through the mask, into my eyes,  

The shards of truth I’ve cloaked in goodbyes?  

Curiosity stirs, a restless shade,  

Peering past corners where secrets are laid.  

It kicks at logic, scatters its reign,  

Frees the heart from reason’s chain.  

There, where our shadows softly collide,  

A quiet moment blooms, with nowhere to hide.  

The air grows heavy, thick with the unsaid,  

A fragile thread of longing thinly spread.  

Her gaze—a mirror I cannot meet—  

Reflects the echoes of my retreat.  

Does she sense the tremble I suppress,  

The weight of words I fail to confess?  

I teeter on the brink, a whispered chance,  

Caught in the pull of her fleeting glance.  

To speak, to unravel this guarded soul,  

Or let silence keep its steady toll?  

Fear binds me still, a familiar snare,  

Trapping the truth in the autumn air.  

Yet time hangs soft, a fragile pause,  

October’s breath reveals the cause.  

Her smile flickers, subtle and wise,  

A spark that questions my thin disguise.  

I’m drawn, a shadow to her glow,  

Tangled in feelings I’ll never show.  

The leaves outside murmur, crisp and low,  

A chorus to what I’ll never know.  

Monday drones on, routine and plain,  

But here, a seed of might-have-been remains.  

She turns, the moment slips away,  

And I’m left with the silence of words unsaid today.