Because I May Die
Death, the morbidity of it
Haunts me like a sickening shroud.
Never had I given it a second thought.
But I may die, and I am scared to die.
I am afraid to die before I tell you things,
I am afraid that the infinite days will be shortened to a mere few.
I am afraid that I would be selfish and hold on
when I should really be letting go.
If I am going to die, if fate condemns me to death,
then at least let me die pretty. Just once.
I had never been pretty, but if I were to die,
I would take a break to pursue it.
How can I love safely, calmly
In the finite days of mine.