I wrote this poem in July of 2025.

your love is pure and evergreen and I’m surprised by it
never had anything like it and part of me wants to sabotage it
start a stupid fight where you end up as another catastrophe
I add to my tome of my lust and love
but something tells me, it’s my anxiety doing a number on me
and I’m deathly afraid of how close we are getting
and for now I pause, I breathe, I tell myself this time
it’s different this time, i’m not some hidden secret kept in your pocket
this time, both of us have done the work and gone to therapy
this time, we both have eyes open and have shown most of our cards
this time, it could work out