The day that I don't love you? That's the day
I don't know what to do. It empties me
To even think of it. What would I say?
How could my self continue to still be
Without that central, signifying fact?
Of course I know that life would soldier on,
My synapses would fire and react,
But something wonderful would still be gone,
And that which makes the bare biology
More beautiful, and higher, would be broken.
So do not fear that possibility,
Though these words linger having now been spoken:
To think of this is but disaster planning
To cope with what comes after my unmanning.
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