muse

the worst parts

Muse,

The very worst part of all of this, is you'll never know. You'll never know you were my best poetry and my best friend, most days. I won't tell you, and you're leaving soon. That's the second worst part, you know. That's the second worst part of everything; it doesn't matter if I decide to be brave or bold, because I'm always a step or seven behind. It'll be too late by then, I know. 

Maybe I should try starting from the beginning? Do you suppose that'd be best? I think you might. Give me a moment to collect my head and I'll pick up on this later, because of course, I'll always pick you up and stand you back on your feet... should you ever need it. 

Dare I say love,

Carrillo.