The Obsticle

You're walking on a tightrope. My fragile heart is in your hands. Its glass, held together by super-glue. It was shaddered by another man. With each babystep you go further, with my heart held above your head. Be careful not to loose your balance, one wrong move, and my heart is dead. But you're closer to your destination as you've ever been before, and I know that if you make it, together, we can aim for more. Its natrual to be causious, but be careful not to look down, for that will make it harder, and you'll fall to the ground. You know what you're doing, so I'm giving you my trust. And the power to break my heart, in the obsticle of love or lust.