Sometimes my words get too personal.
Sometimes they scare me.

Sometimes I wonder how much time I have left.
How many more words will pour out of me.

Will they be the right words?
Will anyone even care?

Most likely my last words
will not feel like my last.

Some letter of love,
or reminiscence of the past,
Some silly little nothing,
with no particular reason why.

Will that be the last thing I write before I die?

One thing is certain,
I won't have a clue.
For I intend to keep writing
until my days are through.

but If I could choose,
I know what I'd do.

I'd end my last poem with
Goodbye, and
I Love You!