Tuesday, 15 December 2015
I am afraid of getting old.
Or, maybe, not that,
I am afraid of losing people
Losing my laugh
The way I can run
The years I can imagine as possibilities to fix
The fuck ups
So, maybe, I am afraid
Of the living I worry I will not do
I am afraid of losing my teeth
Or, maybe, I am afraid of them falling out
If I shiver too much
If I clench them too hard
If I hold too much fear
I am afraid of being alone.
This one is hard to write.
Or, maybe, I am just afraid of losing my bests
This one and this one and this one
Of not being able to lose myself in comfort with them
Not being able to grasp the world clumsily with them
Our sweat making us lose our grip
Our tears making soft pools to catch what we lose
I am not afraid of the rain.
Not matter how hard it falls.
Not even if it drowns me.
Or, maybe, it is the drowning that I am looking for.