Poets often talk about peering into the darkness or they’ll mention something deep about their souls – the dark and disturbed poets do, anyway. Cheerful poetry hardly sells.
All I know is that I could live alone, but I don’t want to. I’ve always known I’ve wanted to fall in love, grow old with someone, and share every secret I’ve ever had just so that I can tell that person: you know everything. But that wouldn’t be the end. We’d grow and we’d continue to share. It’s not enough to say we’d share one soul (there’s that reference), I want to say that we’d both place everything we are into each other’s hands without fear, anxiety, worry – we’d just do it and do so freely.
What scares me most is doing this, then growing old, and then dying to leave her here or her dying to leave me here simply because neither of us would know how to exist without the other. That’s not dependency (some would argue that’s the definition), it’s love. Then, we’d be told by friends and family to “remember the good times,” but I won’t want to – I’d want the real thing. I’d want to continue making memories that I’ll never have to relive just to remember her or for her to remember me. If she were to go first, I’d literally stand there peering into the darkness – into nothing – making no attempt to recapture my soul because it’d be useless – she’d be gone.
That is my biggest fear. It keeps me up at night and made me hesitate to meet her.
But I did.
Apathy and Urgency 