Alone

Each day this agile mind slips away a little farther.

Alone

I examine my memories, unsure

if they are mine or if they belong

to someone young, golden, lithe

on white-washed sand in sepia days with you.

You’ve kept the diagnosis from me,

out of kindness, I think.

But years have taught me you:

the sudden glance away, the trembling lip

how you speak of everything else

except the alien lesion transposing my thoughts.

We have cordoned off our lives, you and me,

twined around each other

like wisteria vines flourishing and blooming

beckoning warmth and sultry days.

How will you be without me?

I’m scared of darkness, of finality,

of never again touching, feeling, just being,

being with you, your warmth like the sun

radiating through me as all of your love does

and has, always has, even on bad days

yet I am more scared for you who must continue on

alone.

Sascha Darlington 1/17/2018