I am afraid of matchsticks burning my fingers
or elevator doors slicing me in half
I am terrified of kissing you for the last time in a day
or waking up realizing you no longer love me
I am frightened of the future, of what tale it would hold, if it’d still be you and me
or just... me
I am petrified of these thoughts, of these dreams, of these fears that latch when I look into your eyes
and catch all this warmth and not know what to do if they disappear, when –