Sing.

I am insecure and unsure. I allow myself to be vulnerable and needy and mistake these crippling attributes for love. I dwell in hidden corners, lingering with my hands clumsily clasped to uncertainty. I cry words that have no meaning here, and write songs that are awkward and unbecoming. The ground beneath me lies blindly and I walk in circles. The distance is distorted, like mirages in melting heat.

Let me pour out myself in wisdom. Let me make this place fertile and powerful, integral in this upward climb toward betterment. Let this journey be returned laced in solid gold.

I will not lean, but I will touch. Not reaching down or reaching up; but across, to hold your hand.

Let that be enough.