one day you will move cities
and we won’t know each other well enough
for you to tell me
one day you will encounter me
in the streets with a young child
and be saddened that you didn�t know
I’d had her. One day I will drive past
some street that we kissed in
and wonder why it feels familiar
but I won’t be able to recall.
one day, someone will tell me
they ran into you in a supermarket
and it won’t hurt. one day i’ll
be able to write poems about you
without tears welling so i can’t
see the screen properly. but not yet.
