why does it bother you
that i can hear your thoughts so loud
like you're still in the room
you hate that i can read you
like a book i've read over and over
because the truth is i have
over and over again
thousands of little times
i watched every thought
pass through your brain
i've counted your heartbeats
i thought about what it would mean
to ever hear it stop
it was enough to make my heart dance
and it danced with a fear of not having
your heart to dance with
many times, i closed my eyes
and i imagined our final moments
my three remaining hairs were grey
you had none
but we made it to old
and i made peace with the fear of dying
because we were enough to carry us over
and wherever we were going
it didn't matter
you held my hand
and you told me "forever"
and i would have been ready.