I once had a gecko,
And I called him Newt.
He was my first real pet,
He was small, green with brown spots,
Innocent and harmless.
He lived in his tank, among rocks and water.
But one day, he disappeared.
“Maybe he’s sleeping, or hiding right now.”
My mother had an explanation for everything,
Although I knew better.
After the next few days, we concluded he had died, or escaped,
But there was no indication of either.
He was just, gone.
We began cleaning out his tank,
Picking up the rocks and draining the water.
And that’s when we found him,
Stuck in the corner, decomposing and rotting.
Even though we don’t know what killed him,
I was sure it was starvation.
Newt died alone, scared, and stubborn.
I cried that night,
If I had searched harder,
If I had found him,
I would’ve been able to save him,
Before it was too late.
So do you understand now?
Why I’m so afraid of losing you?