Silver

We’ve met dozens of times. In passing, in solidarity, in an embrace. I know you well, Silver. I value your sister Gold, though I may know your cousin Bronze better. I hope that won’t come in between us.

Silver, I love you. In an odd, familiarly unique, way. You’re better than what I expected. You appear pure, safe even. But, you are dangerous. Still, I relish in that threat. Dancing on the grave of security, you rest quietly in my arms. A temptation of fate.

I’d drive across state lines at sunrise for you. I have. Though, you may not do that for me. Perhaps that’s impossible — I’m no physicist. Still, I know there are nights that I’d risk my life for you, because of you. More so the latter than the former.

Silver, you are warm. You invite everyone around you. Silver, you are a crowd-pleaser. Yet, the crowd often resents you. You are one of my life’s loves, but never more than momentary. That realization is scary.

What am I to do Silver? Do I love you, or do I let you love the next man you meet? Perhaps you already have. I’ll remain unaware nonetheless.

Be good, Silver.