i like to think of fog as
a sweeping blanket of morose sorrow,
encasing my deepest fears;
i'm afraid that i'll recognize
my own face in the dimly lit
twilight of morning.

i exhale plumes of softly blown breath
from my parted lips
and wish you were there to
fill in the gaps,

yet you are so distant from me now,
and if we were planets i would be as pathetic as the moon,
orbiting you forevermore;
disappearing when you need space,
but always coming back,
time and time again.

i won't give up hope on you,
and you are strong
and you are smart,
and i believe in you.

you're my best friend,
don't leave me again.