i worry that i will never love as everyone else seems to,
will never wake up fresh faced with morning breath
clinging to the one i love in sleep,
safe in the knowledge that they protect me
unintentionally,
they protect my fears
and my dreams and
my love for them,
the soft cotton of their sleep shirt
brushing against the sliver of skin at my hip.

i worry that i will never love nor be loved
as everyone else seems to,
unconditionally and irrevocably,
without question or jest,
at least for a time.
i have never been loved in this way,
not by friends, not by family,
i have woken from sleepovers to empty sheets
and discovered what it is like
to have a birthday sans presents.

i worry that my love is not enough
that one day i may fall into the glorious arms
of the woman i have forever dreamed of,
and she will right me with a smile,
and go on her way.

i worry that i cannot be loved,
that i cannot love
but still
i hope
that perhaps one day
i will wake up curled in another's embrace
i dream of someone who will protect me
from myself.

i worry that i will not be loved as others are but
there is always hope.