Maybe Tomorrow

I keep thinking
it’s going to be today,
that the phone will beep
and it will be your voice,
your words
beckoning me back home.
Or maybe tomorrow.
But I know
it will never be today,
it will never be tomorrow
because you think it’s done.
Even though
I can still hear
the doubt
in your voice,
the worry
at losing again.
How can you think
that was the last word?
That one conversation
is all we need?
When I can feel you hovering,
when I can feel
the inevitability
of our collision?
It’s in my blood,
in yours.
So I keep wishing,
since you’re the only thing
I know how to wish for,
and I know
we only get the love
we think we deserve
which is why your distance
is so inescapable,
so complete
because neither of us
believes we deserve
the love we once had.
So instead
I wait
and I buy presents
for other people
that I wish I could give to you.
Like a Jimmy Hendrix shirt
because he’s your idol
or a copy of Goodfellas,
a movie I’ve seen twice,
both with you.
And I think…maybe tomorrow.

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