I don’t know what I’m more terrified of:
Losing you or us never getting to meet.

Is it possible that after a hundred little memories,
the distracted handholds, and good morning kisses,
one day I won’t want to see your smile anymore?

Will the way I lose you be easy or hard?
Will I just walk away, a single tear swiped
from my cheek, the phantom feel of your fingers
flicking it away for me, or will it be a storm,
monstrous, will I recognize myself when we’re over?

Will it be my choice, or will fate pry us apart,
two pieces of plywood that should be glued,
not nailed. Is our loss a sacrifice
the world has to take to move on?

Or even worse, what if I never even learn your name.
I don’t want to be just two ships passing in the night.
I don’t want to touch your hand as you give me my coffee,
unaware that this hand belongs with mine.
I don’t want to meet your eyes in class,
pulling mine away without a second thought.

It’s one thing to be the person that was,
and another to be the people that never were.