worst case scenario

worst case scenario,
you look at me, submitting yourself like you always do,
reading me like a doctor's diagnosis.
you'll laugh at all my jokes and question my logic
frequently, probably,
but I appreciate it
worst case scenario,
I drive and won't look over at you,
focused on the road and my foot on the pedal,
but you'll probably drive
and look at me for a second too long
and I'll break contact to remind you to look at the road
worse case, you'll listen to me
and I'll listen to you
magnets spinning around each other
only to be separated before they finally make contact
we're magnets, aren't we? I think so.
I'm never afraid to be with you,
but I'm afraid of myself
I'm afraid I'm nailing myself to the ground
and I'll be stuck here forever, waiting.
worst case scenario,
I'll be nailed to the ground,
but I know you'll always come back.
anyway,
it doesn't bother me,
but last time I cried on the drive home,
alone and wiping my face, one hand on the steering wheel
I just let my sobs fill the space around me,
and they held me like a blanket.
I don't know why I was crying,
I guess anyone cries in a worst case scenario,
even if it's the kind that leaves you breathless and grateful and comfortable,
I can't think of best-case,
I can't be disappointed.