I’m afraid of loving you
My blue eyed boy
I’m afraid of losing you
of you thinking you’re my toy

I’m afraid of wanting you
I already want too much
From you, from myself,
From everyone

Is your understanding for me gone?
Do you hate me? I don’t know.
Is my love for you a theorem or
an axiom of my being?
After all…

I’m afraid of knowing
the answer to my questions,
I’m afraid of losing you
to that I have no answer.

The ending of this poem’s near,
yet I have no conclusion
Is this really love,
or my premature illusion?