Dispositions

I'm almost scared to whisper what I think
Although, for once, this time it's positive,
For fear that speech will all to quickly sink
Into a statement that's dispositive
Declaring what I want and what I need
(Strange concept that) and thus allowing you
The total plummet of my heart, indeed,
My soul as well, all open to your view.
Why should I fear? Because the past remains
A blot upon my openness and trust;
it's not your fault: you did not cause those pains
But they existed, and therefore they encrust
My present wishes. Yet I'm sure someday
I'll break through them and say what I should say.