i'm grieving for something
that hasn't happened.
i'm mourning a loss
that hasn't occurred.
i'm breaking into sobs
on the promise of 'maybe'.
i'm shaking, pretending,
making up the words,
because it could happen.
and if it does happen,
it'll feel more familiar -
a thing i've already heard
since i've lived it inside me,
played out the scene.
i'm terrified of losing you,
you sad little bird.