and god do i fear that you’re the
that i’ll still think about
in the lapse between my thoughts even when i’m fifty
like a wanderlust
no amount of airport visits can sate.
and i don’t want you to be
the star of all the stories i’ll tell
my grandchildren of my youth
if i have a memory that you
haven’t crept your way into.
I’m not going to take you into 2016 with me. I’ll probably cry after saying this but I cannot do this anymore. I cannot be fighting a battle that I have no chance of winning from the start. I was never someone who could love like this. I cannot love in secret. I cannot love with having to suppress it all. I can’t.
I give up.