When I say I am afraid of dying alone,
I am not asking for those I love
to die with me.
I am voicing my pain.
The pain of waking alone.
The emptiness of each day-
surrounded by so many
connecting with none.
Driving home alone
knowing no one will ask how was my day.
Cooking for one.
The overwhelming sadness
in a kitchen that once held so many.
Now reduced to a weekly call (if I'm lucky).
The dreams of growing old with you
Was a nightmare which was well worth burying.
And the chance of finding love at my age,
is exponentially -
inconceivable
   absurd
       improbable
          dubious.
So when I say I will die alone,
I am referring to my everyday
mundane,
routine.
That is slowing draining the life from me.