PANIC

Some mornings along the avenue

I remember your eyes and your smile

and wear my boots thin

wandering, searching for your light…

Some afternoons amidst the passers-by

I imagine warm breath on my face

could be yours

and I blush…

Some nights on empty roads

I say your name out loud

and frozen shapes fall from my mouth,

created by the cold

and by my burning, broken voice

And I panic…

I panic that your eyes won’t recognise me,

that you won’t happen ever more.