Shadowed hall where whispers cling like vines,
I stand ‘twixt trust and caution, lost in thought.
How oft I yearn to bridge this chasm deep,
To cross where candor flows, where secrets sleep.

Your words, like autumn leaves, fall soft and sweet,
Yet underneath, the chill of doubt remains.
Each tender phrase, though warmly clothed in smiles,
Hides thorns that prick my heart and test its wiles.

Oh, would that I could drink from friendship’s cup,
And find within its depths no bitter drop.
But past betrayals, like specters in the gloom,
Lurk silently—the heralds of my doom.

So here I stand, where trust and caution meet,
A sentinel at wary vigil kept.
With every gentle word, the scales I weigh,
For in the game of hearts, the wise must play.

Yet hope, that starlit voyager of night,
Whispers of a dawn where fear takes flight.
Perhaps in time, your constancy will show
The truth of hearts, and trust, like rivers, flow.