“Fear”
I know it’s ridiculous, but I’m really afraid of losing you.
It’s a half hour over 3 AM
and - fuck me - I’m still awake
in hopes of getting this out of my head
and stomping it right into the ground.
I wanna bury these thoughts six feet under and leave them there
to rot and cover with concrete.
What if I’m not good enough? What if you stop loving me? Or like
what if you meet a guy ten times - no, a hundred times - as handsome as me?
What if you meet a guy as smart as Einstein or as brilliant as Shakespeare?
What if I’m not as good of a fuck as any you’ve had before?
What if you think about that old shit when we’re in bed?
Or what if… what if… what if… what if…
It gives me the creeps, and it keeps me up
and I’m crying, and I’m a fucking pussy;
and I hate myself - fucking hate myself - for this,
especially because I know that it’s all just in my head,
but it doesn’t seem any less real in this room,
far away from you.
I know it’s ridiculous, but I’ve pushed myself to tears
as I’ve overwhelmed my mind with the very worst of my fears.
Sometimes I hope I’ll find a way
to finally kill the switch
on all these ridiculous
fucking
fears.
Kill the switch. Kill the switch. Kill the fucking switch.
