My greatest fear is not that you will never love me but that you will never think of me
I fear that I will be forgotten like a face that only has a name but no detail.
You moved on so easily that I was more of an idea than a lover.
Is that where this fear has sparked from? That you have moved on without thought.
Thought of the future, a thought of our past, a thought of our love, a thought of me?
Perhaps I am simply selfish, egotistical, to think of it in this way
But what if, by some grace of God or con of Satan, I am right?
To think that you don't think; of what is best, of what you want, or of me?
Perhaps if you do forget me you ma