I fear the swell and push of crowds;
the incoherent chatter closing in from all sides.
I fear looking up from my book and finding someone there
or worse, someone won’t be there.
I fear this fear will prevent our meeting.
I fear the day we meet.
That it will pass without realizing who you were.
I fear being unable to bring my eyes to meet yours
and you mistaking my anxious silence for sarcastic judgement.
I fear staring at my ceiling fan, wishing there was less left unsaid.
I fear my inexperienced sweaty fingers clamping yours too tightly
or bad kisses given and good ones poorly received.
I fear my ignorance of the uncharted emotions in my own heart.
That the barriers I built years ago will keep you waiting outside
and the inadvertent ice in my words biting you too hard too often.
I fear I am too late, too old for new tricks.
I fear, having never loved before,
I won’t know how to love you.