I’m scared to want to try again, but…I think I want to try again.
I’m scared to tell my friends and listen to them say, “He broke your heart, Taylor. You don’t need that in your life again. Don’t call him.”
I’m scared to open myself up again, even though he’s already seen it all and accepted me…mostly.
I’m scared to fall harder, but I’m afraid of letting fate win.
I’m scared to meet his friends and say, “Yeah, I was here before for a moment. Gone for a while. And now…back again.”
I’m scared that this is the switch that I flip that turns him and I into one of those on-again-off-again couples who only hurt each other.
I’m scared to say come over after the last time I did.
I’m scared to hold him, terrified of replaying that last kiss again.
I’m scared to feel it all and scared of having to say it all again, “I’m a mess, but I want this; can we try it again?”
I’m scared because it was real and it was raw and it burned from within.
But I swore up and down I wouldn’t do this again.
I’m scared out of my mind, but I hate not knowing how he’s been.
I’m scared to run into him somewhere, awkward and grim, with nothing to say but, “Oh hey, it’s you again.”
I’m scared to want to try again, but…I think I want to try again.
