Ten-fold

You told me that you’d called the wine shop down the road and said to the man,

“I’m in love with the woman who lives down the road from you, round the corner. Would you take a bottle of champagne to her for me?”

“How much do you love her?” asked the man.

“I love her ten-fold for each step you will walk down the road to her door.”

Pause. “Okay.”

So now it sits on the kitchen worktop because I don’t know who to share it with;

Because you are shared.

I daren’t open it because the pressure might just blow the roof off

And bring the walls tumbling down.

And then everyone would know that we love each other ten-fold.

Should I fold now? Or do we keep building this paper house?

How long until a whisper brings us tumbling down?