I'm sincerely dreading the moment when I see you this weekend
and your back will be turned
and it'll take all of my strength not to touch you
and it will destroy another piece of me.
I'm honestly dreading the moment when I see you, too, Friday
and you'll spot me first
and you will feel hurt again
and I will continue to feel my guilt.
I'm apathetic about the moment when I'll avoid your gaze Friday night
and you'll resist the urge to talk to me
and I'll remember that I'm just bad news
and you'll apologize, but not to me.
I'm unsure if I'll even see you Friday or Saturday
and I will act perfectly normal because that's what you need
and it will only confuse you even more
and I'll lie when I tell you "I love you too."