Diamonds and Ashes

Shifting spikes of pale moonlight stream through the single window, playing with the angles of your face as you lay next to me. I think you're sleeping; I can never tell. Your expression is always one of having a secret that only you know, whether you're awake, or sleeping. Looking at you right now, I'm scared of the way I feel. In the past, I've always held my heart out of reach, so that no one could damage it. I've treated my heart like it's something that could never be repaired, should it ever be broken, and not something that heals over time. Maybe I've missed out on alot of good things doing this. Tonight, I feel as though I'm holding my heart out to you, waiting to see what you'll do with it. I once read that if a tear is a happy one, it turns into a diamond. If it's a sad one, then it becomes ashes. So what will you leave me with; diamonds or ashes?

I know you won't be with me forever, I'm not idealistic or naive enough to believe this. People change, relationships change, and I don't expect this to be any different. I don't even know if this is Love. How can I tell, when I've never been in love before? I want it to be. I want to be the person you fall in love with. But I'm not looking for the dramatic, movie type of love. I want it to be real. The kind of real where we don't have to be together 24/7, but know the other one is thinking about us anyways. To depend on each other, but not be dependent. Perhaps as a woman, I'm analyzing this far too much. Reading into things I shouldn't be.

Your movement startles me, as you open your eyes and reach to wind the piece of my hair that has fallen onto the sheets, around your finger. Your murmer of "Putica" pulls me out of my musings and makes me laugh. The look on your face makes it obvious that you knew I was overanalyzing things again. I love that you know me so well.

The moonlight suddenly shifts again, leaving us in total blackness. You pull me down, my head on your chest, and snag the tie from my hair, so that it spills around us. Tangling your fingers in it, you whisper 'I love you', and I start to feel scared all over again.

Will you leave me with diamonds, or with ashes?