I can tell you in great detail what it feels like to have your ice cold heart slowly thawed on a Winter’s afternoon.

The feeling of utter disappointment when you achieve something and it underwhelms you and your expectations.

I can tell you about the physical agony of relaxing on a scalding hot pool deck in the middle of Summer.

Or the delirious sensation of losing everything you own on the roll of a loaded dice.

I fear, however, that it’s the things I can’t tell you that would change everything.

Ideas that could shape the very beginning of something beautiful,

Decisions that like a blunt and mighty hammer could completely shatter worlds,

Moments suspended in brilliant light that only I can see,

Mistakes made with dazzling proficiency like a callous whirlwind no one could predict.

This oozie concoction all muddled together makes up the core of me,

The grains and creases of a personal tapestry open for public scrutiny,

Very few get to see beyond the curtain,

Very few get to traipse on the shit and the mud that make up the bricks of the trail to the core of me.

No, I won’t let you into this world.

You would gallop away with tears in your eyes and fear in your heart,

No, I won’t do it.

You’re just not ready.