I have a doubt. Its infantile attempts to hurt me cause laughter instead. For such a young thing it certainly has grand aspirations; it relies on me to nurture it, yet still it continues its feeble lashing.

I have a doubt. It is mischievous, shadowing me wherever I go, scurrying around corners whenever I turn around. It doesn’t seem aware that I’ve noticed it, so I play along. Sometimes I glimpse its reflection in your eyes when you smile.

I have a doubt. It yaps at my heels whenever I go out, constantly begging for attention. Ignoring it grants me some small peace, but soon enough it has started up again. Your presence is the only thing that will shut it up!

I have a doubt. It lies to me, mouthing silent whispers when you and I are on the phone. Every time you’re working late, every night I spend alone, it sits atop our bed as I lie awake transfixed by its stare.

I have a doubt. It tells me truths I don’t want to hear, cackling with glee when it sees the pain in my eyes. It squats upon my shoulder, dripping poison in my ear. Every mirror reflects its smugness, forcing me to look away.

I have a doubt. It carved a nest within my heart. Now it’s all I have inside.