Not Yet
I suppose that the day will come when I will be face-to-face with my greatest fear.
It won't be a gray morning or a rainy afternoon, nor will it be a deep black night, a darkness that only happens when my eyes are shut tight after crying over the loss of a loved one.
Because I haven't lost you yet.
The sun will be up high. A soft breeze will cool my face and steal kisses as I walk towards you. High on nostalgia, I'll whisper your name. I'll say it as if you were right there, your hand holding mine. There is a warmth every time we hold hands, like the birth of a star in our own personal pocket of the universe, a universe that was born when you said the word "yes". And there is a distance, whenever we dance, that grows and shrinks and grows again; we are a cycle of good mornings and good nights.
On that day, the city will be abuzz. The sounds from people talking to each other; cars honking as they pass; hawkers shouting to sell their wares; all fading in and out as I pass by and pass through. We are all dancing. Awkward, emotionless, mechanical. I'm saving the best for last.
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I can't seem to end this. It hasn't happened. I can only be honest.