I am so scared of settling with you because I do not know what version of you forever will leave me with. And though you have given me so much of yourself these last fews years, and have taken so many different forms in your attempt at settling us down, I do not know that you are the woman that you say you are.
I am also scared of my sixties and seventies, and the many evenings I will walk into my empty home and fall asleep on a bed that only ages on one side. And I will think about you and the man that now loves you, whose children have given you grand children, and I will wonder if you have loved him as you would have loved me.
I am so scared of it all, because I know that how you feel about him will not matter to you. Your bed ages evenly, and I am a distant memory.

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