Maybe in a week or two I'll forget the smile that reaches your eyes

I'll forget the pounding of an ocean in your ribs and the dust on your sleeves

Perhaps on Tuesday I won't have to turn away when I see you reach for a hand that's not mine

or when you look at me with those laughing eyes

There's a chance that by next week I'll listen to those songs because

I want to, not because

they remind me of you

Or my heart won't miss a beat

when your name appears across the screen

Maybe next Tuesday I won't have to let go before I'm ready

because the feel of your touch

and warmth of you

won't bring me shivers

that I shouldn't be feeling.

I could listen to her stories and give her advice

like I know I should, because that's what best friends do, and I won't feel that twinge

you know the one

on my heart when nothing should be twinging

Perhaps by the time another week goes by I won't want to show you things

tell you things

I've never shown anyone, becase I'll no longer feel that you're the only one

who will truly understand

Maybe I'll be able to appreciate the love that was

almost

but not quite there

or remember the way your hands feel or your voice

without feeling the kind of heartache that's dull and hollow,

but remember it with the kind of heartache that swells and fills you up

But for now, until next week, I'll drag my feet a little,

and feel guilty when we're alone together

and wish I could have traced your lips with mine

and wonder what it would be like to fall asleep in your arms or dance with you under the moon

Who knows, maybe it'll happen

But not now, not yet, but someday, maybe

Maybe next Tuesday