The Question

A proposal not so trivial;

A question failing to depart from quivering lips.

Compliments of lingering anxiety,

Taking residence In a house of bones and flesh

While confidence sleeps on the street.

Here I stand at edge of the world,

Soft beauty and charm before me

An infamous standstill in time

Where composure fails,

And the only thing that survives

Is that foot in my mouth- and a lump in my throat.

My heart skips beats,

For the word "Yes"

Is heaven sent

And confidence regains her house and throne,

And anxiety hears the requiem of another loss

And feels the shame of cold sidewalk.