What if one day
you awake
in bed,
white linen
grazing
your tattoos,
and you see me
asleep in these
pillows and sheets
and think
that I'm not for you?

What will you say
when time conveys
that I am just a single
season
that I'm cold, that I'm stone
That I chill to the bone
and sometimes
it's easier
when I
am
alone

what if one day
I wake in white sheets
to find that
I'm on my own?