A String of Maybes

Maybe you’d show up this time and I wouldn’t be left at the table downing a bottle of wine. Maybe you’d remember this time. Maybe this time I’d be important, or at least more important than whatever came up. Maybe this time was the time you’d finally decide to open your eyes and see what’s always been in front of you. Maybe this time you’ll realize we could be more. Maybe you’ll sit at the table waiting, sweating through your suit sipping scotch. Maybe this time it’ll be you fantasizing and not me. Maybe I’ll dress up. Maybe you won’t pick me up at my apartment, so I’ll walk and it’ll rain. Maybe on my way something comes up, someone. Maybe he shares his umbrella and a smile. Maybe I’m early like always so he and I grab a coffee. Maybe I get lost in his eyes and conversation. Maybe he looks just like you, only he doesn’t make me cry. Maybe this is the first time you sit at a table set for two, candles flickering out as you finish the champagne you bought for us. Maybe I’ve given up or let go or told myself for so long that friendship was enough. So maybe I marry Jason or Mark or Adam because he cooks and gives me the time of day. Maybe I settle into contentment because I feel appreciated. Maybe sometimes when I’m with him I forget he isn’t you.