Layout by: Samantha Olazo
Published by: Sarah Belamide
Date Published: October 9, 2023
Time Published: 3:59 PM
Category: Poetry
Subject: Fear of Love but in two Different Perspective
It's not the thought of you leaving
that scares me.
It's not the warmth-less bed
I'd wake up to in the morning.
The memories may linger a while longer,
but that's not it either.
๐ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ถ๐ฑ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ด๐ช๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ข๐จ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ,
๐ข๐ด ๐ฎ๐บ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต ๐ช๐ด ๐ด๐ต๐ช๐ญ๐ญ ๐ง๐ช๐ญ๐ญ๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ณ๐ฆ๐จ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ต๐ด.
๐๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ค๐ช๐ด๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ด ๐ ๐ท๐ข๐ด๐ต๐ญ๐บ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ธ๐ช๐ค๐ฆ,
๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฎ๐ฆ ๐ฆ๐ข๐ค๐ฉ ๐ฅ๐ข๐บ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฏ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต.
I dread making myself coffee every morning,
without a second cup waiting for it to steam.
I fear eating alone in the dining,
and not wondering why I am no longer smiling.
I'd hate to be accustomed to the silence of my dream,
living in a silent fantasy where life used to be.
Sparkles are as terrifying as they can be,
but losing the spark, that will kill me.
๐ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฅ๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ฎ๐ช๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ฌ๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ง๐ช๐น,
๐ฐ๐ถ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ง๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฑ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ ๐ฎ๐ช๐จ๐ฉ๐ต ๐ช๐ฏ๐ง๐ญ๐ช๐ค๐ต.
๐ ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ด๐ฆ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ณ๐ถ๐ฏ ๐ข๐ธ๐ข๐บ ๐ง๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐ข ๐ง๐ข๐ช๐ณ๐บ๐ต๐ข๐ญ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ช๐ง๐ฆ,
๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ง๐ณ๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฅ๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ช๐ด๐ฆ.
๐๐ถ๐ต ๐ ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ช๐ต ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ฎ๐ข๐ต๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ธ ๐ฉ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ ๐ ๐ต๐ณ๐บ,
๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฏ๐ฐ ๐ข๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ฅ๐ช๐ด๐จ๐ถ๐ช๐ด๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ณ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ฅ๐ฆ
๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ง๐ข๐ค๐ต ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ฅ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฐ๐ฏ ๐ด๐ฐ๐ฎ๐ฆ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ค๐ข๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฎ๐ฆ,
๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ด ๐ฑ๐ช๐ต ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ,
๐ฉ๐ข๐ฑ๐ฑ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ๐ด๐ด ๐ช๐ด๐ฏ'๐ต ๐จ๐ถ๐ข๐ณ๐ข๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฆ๐ฅ.
I caved. Conceded. Surrendered.
The very fragment of me,
that clings to the satin sheets—
amidst the casually thrown out clothes;
the version of me that dread
the way my heart would drop from my sleeve,
and be deaf to the fallen beat—
that terrifies me.
๐๐ง ๐'๐ฎ ๐ต๐ฐ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ข ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ฃ๐ช๐ณ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฌ๐บ,
๐ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ช๐ฏ๐ฌ ๐'๐ญ๐ญ ๐ฃ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ง๐ฆ๐ค๐ต๐ญ๐บ ๐ง๐ช๐ฏ๐ฆ.
๐๐ฐ๐ณ ๐ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ๐ฏ'๐ต ๐ญ๐ช๐ท๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ช๐ต๐ฉ ๐ข ๐ฃ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฌ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ข๐ณ๐ต,
๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ข๐ต ๐ ๐ค๐ฐ๐ถ๐ญ๐ฅ'๐ท๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ท๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ต๐ฆ๐ฅ ๐ช๐ต ๐ง๐ณ๐ฐ๐ฎ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ต๐ข๐ณ๐ต.
๐๐ง ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ท๐ฆ ๐ช๐ด ๐ช๐ฏ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ข๐ช๐ณ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ๐ฏ ๐ธ๐ฉ๐บ ๐ช๐ด ๐ช๐ต ๐ด๐ถ๐ง๐ง๐ฐ๐ค๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ฏ๐จ?
๐ช๐ฏ๐ด๐ต๐ฆ๐ข๐ฅ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ด๐ข๐ต๐ช๐ด๐ง๐ข๐ค๐ต๐ช๐ฐ๐ฏ, ๐ธ๐ฉ๐บ ๐ช๐ด ๐ช๐ต ๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ๐ณ๐ช๐ง๐บ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ?
But to lose the height of a warming heart seems so empty,
without love to give, how can I be me?
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