We're almost touching.
Walking side by side,
you talk about cabs in your hometown.
I feel the gravity of your hand—
calling my fingers, whispering,
"It's alright."
We're touching, but not quite.
You held my shoulder, shielding me
from the passing cars.
For the first time in forever,
I felt fragile.
In a world that suffocates,
where I struggle even to breathe—
you believed me.
I almost said it.
One ounce of courage,
just enough to tell you everything—
every thought, every feeling I've hidden.
I want to find home
in the hollow of your collarbones.
Would you let a stranger in?
I want to seep into your warmth—
this world is harsh,
and my cracks ache with cold.
Almost.
