I THINK I AM GOING TO HIDE MY EYES

because someone might stop seeing the stars in them.
people ask me what I fear, and I say heights, or dark,
or falling, or crowds — but that is polite.
The truth is:
I am afraid that the person who once kissed my forehead
will start counting the freckles like debts,
that their laugh at my jokes will become sighs,
that the soft stubbornness i loved
will turn into stubborn refusal,
and i will be ugly to someone who once
thought the universe was tucked in my smile.
I will scrub my hands until they bleed
and still, the thought crawls up my spine like mold.
New haircuts, new perfume,
it will not matter. The stars in my eyes
might just burn out anyway.
I think i am going to hide my eyes.