A soft shift in perspective

I'm too broken    
to feel much
right now,    
and asking if you'd take    
a rain check seems    
really weird    
   
even for me.  
   
I barely like myself enough    
to smile with my eyes    
when I see you    
(but I do)    
   
I'll walk with you    
a while,    
though  
right now,    
if you'd have me along    
   
the cacophony of boots crunching    
through leaf litter  
on a perfect summer day    
a tandem song    
in our minds  
   
and the way    
a soulful voice    
makes the little hairs  
on our arms stick up    
   
and how it all    
feels like a breeze    
through a copse of    
   
maybe  
   
sounds kinda scary  
if I'm being honest.  
 
But I'll walk with you    
a little,    
to a quiet peak    
where you    
roll your eyes  
because I'm bitching    
about the incline  
   
you ask me    
why I cover my mouth    
when I laugh hard  
   
and I reply  
'I don't know.'    
 
I just don't know.  
   
and if your hand grazes    
mine on accident  
I might  
snag your pinky with mine,    
and swing our fists    
as if we were 10    
on a playground    
before the world    
turned real.    
   
and before I  
chicken out  
and hide in a  
dark corner of my mind,  
 
I'll walk with you    
right now    
this second
to the place    
that oversees    
hidden worlds    
   
and stand  
   
awestruck    
   
by how beautiful    
things look    
can look    
from a    
new    
perspective.    
   
 if you'd have me along.