I've been avoiding writing
like your eyes on Saturday night,
because how do I tell you
that I'll miss you when you're gone
and admit to myself
that it might not be a big deal?

I am not scared
that my heart will stop beating
but that yours will seek
the warmth of someone else.

I cannot say this is what I want
even though I am certain
this is what you need.

This is not heartbreak.

No,
this is something different
and I'm not quite sure what it's called.