top of page
I am afraid.
Cloaked in worry
anxious over
you retreating
I am afraid,
though not of you
but of the hole
that would appear
I am afraid
that one morning
you will wake up
and disappear
I am afraid
That your messages
of always are
in waning ink
I am afraid
I will be left
merely imprints
of your caring
I am afraid
you will be gone
and we will be
erased by time
Being afraid to lose you is
what I will call, from here on out,
my love language
bottom of page