Feared Intimacy

so many dreams, so many whispers, and so many anecdotes -
some invigorating, few inspiring, while most insanely inane.
shared, narrated, told, then retold - means ever so varied -
often through a mindless silence, or indulgences in vanity.

will they run out of them, having done so over and over again?
silence, shared in light and dark, become ever so intimidating?
will the quaint little nuances, growing into inexplicable causes
of hatred, poison the novelty in their character and stifle them?

they fear formalities and niceties turning something pretty into
a marriage of convenience. a secret paranoia and insufficiencies
ravaging the palace of cards; with it all its ideas, all its hopes.
will ambitions then be murdered at their altar of question marks?

the beauty of the moment seems tainted by this feared intimacy;
the friends and the lovers, though, still revel in their cynicism.
they give up more pieces of the puzzle than they can take back,
yet, without letting go, i fear, they would never be able to know.