Taboo

So I've met someone.

Taboo.

Of course, but when is it not?

We're not together; we're not even 'talking.'

Whatever that means....

Hours of talking.

Hours of laughing.

Hours of sharing life stories.

Wondering.

Thinking.

Reflecting.

I have never been challenged to think this way.

I sit in awe.

Amazed.

Because it's amazing.

Whatever that means...

The smile.

The laugh.

The stories.

The answer to the question: What are you thinking?

You.

Me.

Me and you.

Man, I'm falling.

Hard.

But I can't.

But I want to.

What am I falling into?

Concrete? Grass? A big ball of cotton?

I want to fall.

But I can't

Taboo.

Of course.

Does it matter?

In this circumstance, yes.

And you know.

And it's not that.

It's something else.

And of course, this happens to me.

Should I fall and I hope to land in the ball of cotton?

The comfort.

The smile.

Oh, the smile.

It's the tingly feeling.

Or will I land hard on the concrete and just lay there hurt.

I don't want to hurt.

But I really don't know what I want right now.

Because it is.

Taboo.