A child's eyes

Maybe it's because I fancy myself open, and frank, and honest.
Maybe it's because, as best as I want to, I'd like to be an open book.

And I won't say things I don't mean, things I haven't thought through.
Because I wouldn't like that to be done to me, quite honestly.

Stupidly though, for a while, I thought other people might be like that too. Except they weren't.
So I just nodded, and smiled and took everything with a pinch of salt.

And then after a while, it was nice to find someone I felt I could ease up with.
Someone I didn't have to keep second guessing at every turn and corner.

But sometimes,
just sometimes, even truths have strains of
uhm, I can't quite find the word for it right now but-
uh something or other.
And then, words are all that one's left with.



uhm.


So.
yes.



I think a part of me is afraid, more of myself than anything.

I mean, when someone starts a sentence with, "This is the first time I've.." it would be nice to take it at face value.
Just. sometimes, you know?

And then at some point, someone comes along, and you find that you don't find it very difficult to believe.
But,
stupidly,
some part of me, it's scared that I do.




That somehow,
at some point,
she had me unravelled

and caught me with my guard down.

So how now, brown cow?