Through the Window Pane

 There's a thin layer of frost between me and the outside world.  And the butterflies in my gut tell me I'm lost.  That the lurching feeling is the only thing that's real.  That when the train stops, I probably won't get off.  Because I'm afraid.  Afraid to take those few steps that truly mean anything.  Afraid of success.  Afraid of failure.  Because where I am right now, it's warm.  So really, I'm afraid of the cold.  Or maybe I'm just afraid of the Pain that holds it back.  Not because it makes my skin crack and bleed.  But because it forces my heart to skip a beat.  And I can't afford that.  Because if it happens too much, my brain won't get enough blood, then my lungs won't get enough oxygen, and I'll forget the important things.  Like how to breath, and how the ocean feels, all the little details about Her, and everything my parents told me was Real.  But, most of all.  I'm afraid that no one else has a heart as big as mine.  Afraid, that I'll never get that kind of love in return.