The Architecture of Doubt

Your "maybe" is the first rung,

your "I'm not sure" the second—

I've learned to climb the scaffolding

of other people's hesitation.

Your self-doubt fits so perfectly

in my palm, each question mark

another handhold up this wall

of beautiful uncertainty.

I collect your "I couldn't possibly"s

like rope, braid them into

something load-bearing,

test their strength with gentle pulls.

Your "who am I to..."

makes such a stable platform,

and your "but what if..."

such a reliable safety net.

I've made an art of scaling

the architecture of your fears,

while you stand below,

steadying my ladder.

How kind of you to build

these towers of reservation

just high enough

for me to reach the top.

By the time you notice

I've borrowed your hesitation

to build my elevation,

I'll already be standing

on the summit of your almost.