I don’t know how she can tell it
but whenever I say goodbye to her
she lowers her eyes and looks down
briefly to keep from telling me that
there is too little time left
that we’re parting in such a way
that we’re sure to see each other again
that it’ll forever be like this.
That I’ll always make her breakfast
that we’ll always hold hands before she falls asleep
that we’ll sit and marvel at the spiny orb weaves
bridging the cacti on our front lawn.
That to make believe I’ll love you forever is shameful.
What I do know is that by loving actively and with all aplomb
filling each measure of time with will and purpose
it will be like forever