No I'm afraid of becoming so close... by Tatiana 112

I'm afraid of becoming so close  nauseating,

And to  melancholy, so mundanely familiar,

That suddenly the viscous sands of everything

Will turn love into a cynical routine, ill humor.

That tenderness will slip through the  days,

Leaving a chill, freezing feelings, nutty;

That it will turn into a gray ball of shadows

That past whose future is so empty...