Fear.

It is bound to dawn hard on you when the mere thought of them makes you skittish and you try to confront your fate to them.

Does it come out to be this small?

All this time, your obsession, ardour, nights smirking alone looking at their pictures; this small that they stand there, unvary of everything, waiting you to move your tongue, waiting with impatience to deny you?

Or is it big?

It may. But it’s very lucid, that the fear is bound to dawn hard.

You want to walk among the Numbing Zephyrs, this time not alone.

You fear them not being on the same frequency.

You fear rejection.

You fear that Ecstacy was/will never be shared.

You fear your Dingy Secrets wre/will never be shared.

You fear. But be vary, though.

The fear is bound to dawn hard.

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