I’m already scared to leave.
I kissed myself along the shoulder
and down to my fingertips this morning
because you were too far away to reach -
and I’m not even gone yet.
I am so much older than I used to be,
and I think it is a good thing
except now I am scared to die
because I am probably closer to it.
I am more scared that you will go first.
‘Go’. Go first.
Like a gentle sailboat tied to the shore,
and you are just practising
and I am watching and smiling and waving from dry land.
You are just practising, and I am pressing down,
covering the wide smile you love so much with white knuckles.
I’m not gone yet. You aren’t gone yet.
You are just practising. I am not scared.
Except I am scared, and you are tearing down a mountain
and I am with you every crashing step of the way
until I’m not anymore
and when I’m not it’s only because I’m gone.
I am not scared.