—Jazmine Sullivan
The most frightening thing of all is you and me.
I’m watching the storm while talking to you—communing in spirit, as we always do.
We have this bond—I’m sure you feel it too—too deep for words.
Twice I’ve had my heart broken—well, they say three’s a charm—but still, I’m not able to bear losing you.
Twice I’ve built myself up, on one-way trips to the stars—but I’m not risking you.
I'm not scared of lions and tigers and bears, but I’m scared of loving you.
And I’m not scared of our love affair, or crossing rough seas, but I don’t want to be left with only memories.
Sorry, Love, but what I really can’t bear, is losing you.
I flick off the gas fireplace and watch the flames die, but the fan continues offering dark sacrifices to the night.
Why am I doing this—staring into flames trying to divine my fate?
Sometimes I give things away because I can’t bear the burden of caring for them—their responsibility weighs upon me.
And that’s how I feel about Grier.
I photo shopped a heart onto our special tree—Grier and Callum 2018.
Even printed it off to give it to her framed, tied up with a fancy bow, but couldn’t take the step.
So those things I give away, well, they’re just stuff, but I can’t do that with Grier—can’t let her go, so I just withhold my love.
I pick up my journal and begin writing again.
I’m talking to you again tonight, Love, the way I often do—and hope somehow you’ll hear, and the message will get through.
Saw our love tonight in the fire and was watching it slowly burn—spent all night staring at the flames, trying to know where to go from here.
I keep returning to why we met and where we might someday go, but taking that next step, well, that’s a whole other world.
I'm not scared of lions and tigers and bears, or ending up lost among the trees—
No, the most frightening thing of all is the thought of you and me.