As a kid,
I would count backwards from ten and imagine at one.
There would be an explosion.
Perhaps caused by a rogue planet.
Crashing into Earth.
Or some other catastrophe.
When nothing happened,I'd feel relieved.
And at the same time, a little disappointed.
I think of you at ten.
The first time i saw you.
Your smile at nine.
How it lit up something inside me I had thought long dead.
Your lips at eight.
Pressed against mine.
And at seven.
Your warm breath in my ear.
Your hands everywhere.
You tell me you love me at six.
And at five we had our first real fight.
At four we had our second and three, our third.
At two you tell me you cant go on any longer.
And then at one,you moved on.
I am relieved.
So relieved.
And a little disappointed.