this and that

and whatever you're holding in your fist,

i want to see that too.

i'm scared of what you might do to me,

and i think sometimes,

you're afraid of exactly what i might do to you.

it isn't enough that we shake hands,

because the guns and knives

you and i

anticipate

aren't visible at all.

ambush attacks, one might say,

is the only time they appear,

and when they are out,

they hide carefully

and strike quietly,

so that the victim hurts

only after

the crime is done.

they are quick little creatures,

faster than our minds and thoughts,

and tear through hearts and souls

with record-breaking speed

and agility.

the pain,

did you feel it?

did your mind hear

that breaking sound,

and did your heart

try to save itself?

was it too late

when you realized

your fear had viciously

tripped you down?

i don't know how it happened,

i only see that cut

and that bruise,

and i look at your face,

your eyes,

weary,

focused on my scab.

it's okay.

i'll sit with you,

and we'll wait here

until the rain stops,

and the roads are safe again.