Fear

I'm afraid of ending

and

scared to death of stopping.

My fear

is only that I will wake up one day to find myself a ghost.

A hollow shell

like drift wood on the waves

chased here

and there.

I fear becoming foam on the water.

Invisible stretch.

I'm afraid of the winter years of my life

ending me

outside of myself.

I'm afraid of the gain

of saying that I feel nothing

I fear the joy

in knowing that I am numb to everything that touches me.

I never thought that loneliness was dissectible

or that I

with all of my strength

could find it in myself to let go.

I want to love

with grace

and wild passion

but-

-but.

I have seen this place before,

the darkness

the depths

where my words pierce

my skin

your skin

our skin

and I want to run

but gone am I from these shadows.

I'm afraid of becoming only a memory

I fear

this

more then

anything

else.

I fear the ach

that brings me to my knees

and the tears

crippling me

slowly killing my senses

my ways of getting by.

I have always been a writer

I have always written everything down

but I am afraid

of ending.