A bird welcomes the morning outside my window, my eyes are still closed and you are afraid that you might have “lost” my love.

Lost?

Lost, as in you hid it under the bed, but then forgot where you put it?

Lost, as in threw out some old stuff and forgot that my love was in between the crumpled paper somewhere?

Lost, as in you lent it to an old friend and you forgot to get it back before she moved far away and you lost contact with her?

Lost, as in you kept it in your pocket, but one day all your trousers were in the washing except this one really old pair with lots of holes in them, and you put my love in the pocket of those, but there was a hole in the pocket, and my love fell out on some pavement as you went from the doctor’s to the grocery store, and you went back and looked for it, but it was nowhere to be found, and you think someone might have picked it up and taken it home with them?

In any case, you are being silly.

If I know anything for a fact, it is that one cannot lose something which one has never had.