Maybe
you will walk in
with a dozen pure white
roses in your hand
freshly picked from
wherever roses grow.
And you will smile
without showing your teeth
or saying a word,
leaving me smiling
and speechless
as well.
But after a moment
I will say hi
and blink back tears
that fill to the brims
of my sad, weak
eyes.

Maybe
you will walk over
to the edge of my bed
and stand there for
some immeasurable time
just gazing into my eyes
with that close-lipped
smile you wear so well.
And you will wait
until my own smile
erupts into a small,
uncertain laugh
that causes your
perfect, serene mouth
to open slightly.
At first your expression
is still a smile, but
soon it turns
into worry, as you
lay the roses down
on my bed
and reach a hand
up to touch
my face.

Maybe
you will hold my gaze
and my hand
with both of yours
as you whisper
"Hey...", while
tilting your head
to one side, with a look
of utmost concern
caressing your
perfect features,
making you look strong,
steady, and
ready for the worst.
Your left thumb
wipes a tear from
under my eye,
and you whisper
"What's wrong?"
as you tuck a lock
of my hair behind
my ear.

Maybe
I will tell you
everything
that is on my mind
tonight. I will
tell you about the way
I needed you
six months ago, and,
unable to restrain
tears that beg for
the freedom of
my salty cheeks,
I will tell you about
the way I have
needed you lately.
The way in which
I crumble to pieces
without you there
to hold those pieces
together with the
your love.

Maybe
By the strength
you are providing,
as your hands continue
to surround mine
and as your soft, kind,
blue eyes
never waver from my own,
I will dare to tell you
of the way in which
I occasionally
begin to doubt
the extent of that love,
your love.
I will lay it all
out in front of you
not knowing
if you will see it
in the way
I am trying to describe.
But there is nothing
left to do
but try.

Maybe
you will understand
the loneliness I feel
when I sit with the
lights off, alone
on this bed, waiting
for you
to walk through
my door, holding
a dozen pure white
roses in your hand.
You will understand
why our Kleenex supply
is so rapidly depleted
when moments
like these sneak up
behind me.

Maybe
You will understand
why, despite any fear
I may possess,
I always make sure
to keep my door
unlocked
when I sleep so that
you may walk in,
arrange my roses
in a vase with water,
crawl in bed,
wrap one arm around me,
and go to sleep.
You will understand
why I dream of
falling asleep
without you and
waking up as the sun
seeps through the slits
in the blinds,
waking me as gently
as the kisses
you place on
my neck.