My Deepest Pain, My Truest Fear
Please tell me love;
What is it you do fear?
That nagging terror,
That dogs you so?
It is not death,
Nor elegant pain.
You fear not
To be alone,
Nor emptiness’ bleak end.
To be forgotten,
Worries you not.
So what my dear,
Oh my truest love,
What is it you do fear?
It is not the pain,
Nor death’s empty end.
I fear not to be alone,
Nor the eradication
Of my memory.
To be forgotten
Is no great thing
It is, my truest love,
My sweet valentine,
The pain to come,
That which ripples out
From my demise.
For the only sting,
I cannot endure,
Is the affliction
Of my dear friends.
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