Each day this agile mind slips away a little farther.
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
Sascha Darlington 1/17/2018