I'd forgotten what it's like to be vulnerable to rejection from a romantic other
Not a fleeting image of an other,
But a just-developed-past-image, now-a-real-person other
Someone I've shared myself and been open with - to the extent possible in a seven hour period
What if she decides she doesn't like me?
What if she decides she's not ready?
What if my interest is not reciprocated?
I will feel like a fool if I let my hopes up for someone explicitly proclaimed unavailable,
Though I would rather feel a fool and remember this feeling than not, and it remain forgotten
These rusty, cobwebbed corners of mine, long untrodden and left to dreams