I’ve always been the great lover that I’ve known. I would love, no conditions, no returns needed. That I would love: the be all and end all of my existence.
I never thought it would be scarier when someone actually asks you to love him. Never imagined I would chicken-shit.
Is this about aging and my now frail bones?
About wisdom and not making the same mistakes?
Must be fear of getting ripped, irreparable
Or trying to maintain balance?
Is this death of a tomorrow?
Or is this faith and hope, that he would hold on?