Word Versus Nerve; Action

I wish I had the courage, the words; no, the nerve.
If only to make a move in this bewildering game before me, to do more in my life than observe.
I realized not what I had invested, how attached I let myself become, how much by a smile alone I would be affected.
Has the wound in my heart healed over shape of you?
Dare I mar the view, wrest the offending thing from my chest? Create another gaping, bleeding wound on my breast, to match my panic, my soul's misplaced distress. Dare I wrench it free and feel again the familiarity of hurt?
I see the small acts, the things of which heroism is made, and still I sit afraid.
I wish not to hurt you; I wish you not to know the stinging ache I have felt.
Yet I wish not to leave you the greatest pain, alone.
Alone I have felt too keenly, and while this friendly, awkward dance done is seemly, the mere thought of putting a smile on your face... brings me such joy I fear I may be dreaming.
I will celebrate the triumphs, I will cheer through the falls, because at the sound of a voice, my heart thunders against my chest; a thousand hammer against an impenetrable wall.
I see one among the best, I see success, and it pains me so, even to imagine, that heart in distress.
I wish, with every bone in my body, every atom in my soul, little more than to surrender, even but once, into that embrace.
To weep, safe in those arms, to hear the heart in that chest, a sound to remember.
A voice intoxicated my ears, it slides in when I'm nervous and it soothes my fears.
I'm a sad kind of deprived, where even just sitting there in the silence, my world makes just a little more sense.
As though I have been broken and gentled for them, them alone.