Wobbling

I have a reoccurring dream where you show up on my front porch 

The fire in my heart isn’t a match, it’s a torch

I keep it at bay by enclosing it in glass

On windy days, it starts to wobble, but I know the storm will surpass

But that doesn’t mean I don’t feel the heat 

I become painfully aware of the way my heart beats

My wailing is masked with silence and a shy, friendly smile 

“How are you” “I’m good” “Haven’t seen you in awhile” 

I’m a performer after all 

My biggest fear is that I’ve performed so well that I’ve even fooled myself 

How would I ever even tell?