I can't figure it out right now, let's just leave it,

I say.

But what about tomorrow?*

I think.

When we're ninety,

What then?

Because I want to be with you,

I can admit.

I want snowy days by the fireplace, and sonograms and rings

I want your future, I'll need you in the morning

Some day.

But right now

I'm sorry,

Love is a foreign thing.