I am stretched

On the rack of Time.

Each passing day

Adds to my agony.

Strangely, as your

Arrival comes closer,

I grow more

Anxious.

Perhaps I anticipate

Disappointment.

I’ll be let down

By your presence.

I’m afraid to get my hopes up

Because it’s never

What I think.

My fault entirely.

Though sometimes I wonder

Whether it is

Partly your fault

Too.