Is it a bliss or a sorrow

The more I spend my time with you, The more I fear it won't stay true. The more I look into your eyes, The more I dread our last goodbyes. The more memories that we create, The more I fear they’ll shift to weight. What now feels warm, what feels so right, Might haunt my heart in sleepless nights. Is this “more” a blissful flame, Or silent sorrow with a name?