Self-doubt
is my slow killer.
Fancy that running
into you at the grocery
store would make me
want you harder.
Babies cry and
daddies chase me
down aisles.
Sometimes I wonder
about all these strangers
loving me. They can
treat me better
or worse? Married
or single? But then
you leave me all these
trails to your soul
all these tracks to
your mind
and I blush
in front of the
pasta section.
I change every morning
into some girl
in the morning
who had a father once
and now visits
cold snowy
cemeteries for fun.
Death is not comforting
for me,
He was.

I want your arms
to wrap me up
like a warm blanket
I had as a child.
I will not take away
my gaze
from yours.
It is too early
in the morning to compete.
This is what keeps
me going today
and you
are always
to be continued.