Lonely Corners

I'll ask the same questions then that I do now.
And will likely settle for spending the life in between
running from whatever the answers may be, for fear
of them never amounting to everything I've always wanted.

As if kept warm by the belief that I'll find more
in never learning that she'd been in the cards for me at all
than I will in running such risks as to ask it
and to maybe be shattered by it.

Because at least this way,
the chance can remain that some day,
when the memories show me her face,
her place and mine might be the same.