How do I tell you to stay
without sounding weak
How do I tell you my hands have memorised the shape they take
Writing down your name
That I have to refrain
From writing it down
At the bottom of every page
That I have failed myself
By allowing you
to become my weakness
That the missing skin around my fingers,
My dark circles
Are witnesses
To how much I,
Truly, am afraid
For the first time in my life
Something has stayed
for so long
That I never want it to leave.
How do I expect you to want to stay
When I, myself,
want to leave,
sometimes.