It makes me panic to feel like I would lose you.
The very thought turns my muscles into immune-disordered nightmares where I can't move.
I forget how to breathe because you have always been my oxygen,
And I'd have to be intubated to live without you.
I'd be at a loss for the every days and the way you'd say my name.
I'd miss the emojis I've only seen you use and the way you open up to me about your pain.
"I'm free with you," you’d say.
But then you'd be gone, carrying the memories of Galtymore in your chest,
freer than you'd ever been with me,
and that truly haunts me.














