I’m doomed.
My love has grown and evolved, and finally it has consumed my lunacy. Sometimes, they even dance like they like it. Ils sont contents.
My love covers my fear in a heavy, fancy coat, and expensive hat.
It gave my doubt smart Isotoner gloves with the chevron trimmings.
I’m still afraid, all the time I think, one day suddenly he will not love me.
Of this I’m nearly certain.
One day, some day, he will look at me in disgust, with contempt
One day he will forget I was ever delightful and he will reject me and he will wear his disdain upon his face and his eyes will get very small and unrecognizable and between the brows fury will crackle and his mouth will growl with confusion and exhaustion and what once felt so like love will fill him with emptiness and finality and he will close a door on me for good.
I’m nearly certain of it and still my love wont allow me to stop now.
My love moved us all here, from The Northern Head, down to its southern garden, and around my fear, it erected a wide fence, but a fence nonetheless.
And here, together, we wait to see how it all plays out and what comes next, each day until its inevitable end.
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