Dead Heat

It is, undoubtedly, a standoff.

A most peculiar standoff at that, as we have both laid our souls out on the floor before us.  Standing all bare bones and wide eyes, our hollow voices resonate:  “here I am” in both tones of mocking and assurance.

To the untrained eye, it would seem there is little left to risk; vulnerability abounding as we have already been stripped down, bearing raw emotions and bleeding hearts.

But nevertheless here we both are, poised in cautious stances; making moves and counter moves. Sideward glances. One step forward, two steps back.  A stalemate; showdown, as we each act with counteracting trepidation.

Who will surrender first?  It seems only natural I champion this cause , when it is I who has been the most outwardly restive from the start.  Yet, you act in sly and silent defiance, only proving that our guards are one in the same.

Who wins a war like this and is there something to actually be won? Or perhaps rather, it is a truce that we are seeking. A truce to aid in the selling of our vulnerability.  An agreement that concessions must be made and compromises are inevitable.

One thing is for certain: little progress can be made in the way of our current patterns. We are standing in stagnant waters.  So we must choose: to crumble and rebuild; together! Or stand our ground with our castle walls strongly surrounding us each in an emotional fortress, staying completely immobile until inevitably we both must turn away.

So, I have made my choice.  I am silently standing down.  With great taciturn, I am ceding slowly, but ceding nonetheless, opening the door for you.

Go ahead, it’s your move now.   In earnest, I am ready for checkmate so that better things may come.

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