I feel you staring at me,
arm slung over my ridged body
nights meant for secret kisses and
professions of love
spent instead in
visions of fire and destruction
and the other shoe dropping.
I feel you on my neck
given up on telling me tomorrow will actually come.
given up convincing me this isn't the end.
Yet your erratic breathing tells me you are still awake
suffering though my suffering
as the clock continues to tick on.
I want you to know
through my minutes of self absorption,
seconds where I tear at my brain searching
for an off switch
the down turn of your unkissed lips
I'm sorry in advance.
I know my insecurities will eat you alive.