Sharing

Sharing is an art. It, like art, requires certain recklessness,

Boldness, a fearless sprint off the cliff.

We go on dates, we talk to others on the street,

We smile and nod, and utter words, as if

They matter. What we want

Is to expose a little bit of our soul.

But we don’t know to whom. So we fill the air

With words. To make us whole.

We want to share.

But what we do instead is produce little puffs of air,

To fill the spaces in between us.

Temporary daze, like a glass of rich red wine.

We jog, we work, we shop, we dine,

We do things in a crowd because it feels better

Than being alone. We wish for the divine.

Sometimes we stop and wonder why,

Sometimes we do something and try

To change the habit of getting nowhere,

Of pushing air between each other,

And say something to make it easier to bear

Our loneliness and fear

Of being eternally forlorn, afraid to love,

Afraid to feel, not capable to open to the possibility

Of being hurt, of playing the roulette,

Of taking the chance to avoid sterility

Of daily interactions, and having something,

Someone or someones that make us set

Upon letting go, letting things flow,

Allowing them in, and letting ourselves share.

Our pain, our joy, our less-than-bright moments,

Trust just enough to relax, stop being aware
Of every thought, judgement and care.
To feel, all to the brim - to dare.