I wish I were braver

That's how the post read - no context, no explanation. A friend had posted it, but it struck a chord with me.

I wish I were braver.

Because then I could tell her how I was mad about her.

I wish I were braver.

Then I could tell her how I thought she was brilliant.

I wish I were braver.

I could find the words to tell her that she's one of the most intriguing women I've known.

I wish I were braver.

Then I could tell her how beautiful I thought she was.

I wish I were braver.

This heart has been through enough, been trampled too much. It's made me gun shy - afraid of another hit.

So I sit on the periphery, alone in the shadows, wondering if I'm good enough to enter her world.

I'll watch her breeze through, catch the glow of her smile, feel the warmth of her presence, for a few fleeting moments. I'll bury my heart and all of my feelings, way, way down, covered in quips and bravado.

And when she's gone, I'll let those desires surface, and wait for the chance to see her again.

And all the time...always thinking...always thinking that one simple wish...

I wish I were braver.