I'm terrified of you dying before me/so my heart skips a beat/whenever we cross a street
even though there are no cars in the distance. Definitely why I check on you at night
sometimes to ensure that (even though you're six) you're still breathing.
I'm so afraid of....that I dread a call from your school telling me of some tragedy and I think of locking us away.
AS IF I CAN CONQUER DEATH by keeping you close to my side.
I'm so afraid of losing you since I learned from my grandmother that a parent Can live
long past a child and my heart breaks cause I don't see how I can ever
survive beyond you.
I'm so afraid that I would rather not think of that possibility
and simply hug you just a little too tight,
kiss you just a little too much
and tell you each night how much I love you
while foolishly believing that somehow you will live forever.
Cause that's what a mother needs to do.