I’m scared of marriage; I’m scared of life,
I’m scared I won’t be a very good wife,
I’m afraid I’ll cheat, be seduced by glee,
I’m afraid the time comes to stand, I’ll flee,
I’m afraid at celebration, none will raise their glass,
And that, in memory, none will note I’ve passed.
I’m afraid that the murky, the dark, the grey,
the indifference and the in between
is forever where I’ll stay.
This stupor’s served me well, in fact, these last few years and days,
A brief respite – the great delight, a self-indulgent haze,
No matter the tide, in or out – the horizon’s drawing near,
Another day, another doubt: a being doused in fear.
