The End is Fear

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When I was a girl I dreamt of this pain
that devoured me from the inside out.
It was a crack in the clear glass, a stain

that marked her even when she was devout.
I feared for her life in the day and night,
when delicious hotness poured from the spout,

filling the cup before my very sight.
She seemed to be so perfect to me then –
everything she said and did was all right

no matter if she slammed the door or when
she stumbled into my bed way too late.
The next day she would be armed with a pen,

scribbling down every chore, sweet name, and date
as if last night was only a bad dream.
When she smiled at me, I feared her fate.

I wanted to tell her, wanted to scream,
“I don’t want you to die, don’t ever fly
away” … I couldn’t — watched it like a scene

from a tearjerker — ‘nother choice passed by
never to return to me again.
All I can do is sit alone and sigh,

pray for another second, remain sane –
be strong, smile, suck it up, hold back tears
that sit patiently ’til no strength remains.

I can’t deny I’ve harboured many fears;
each was more paralyzing than the last.
But this one fell on blind eyes and deaf ears.

She always was my everything, my past.
I only regret that it passed too fast.