Lame girl stuff

Maybe next year I wont love you, the way I love you when I speak my thoughts of you. My cheeks flush and my smile widens at your name. Maybe I will regret loving you someday, I wish today was that someday, but it is merely Thursday. The week is more than half over and the warm has dulled a bit, the pattern I have grown used to in your memory. The days slip since the last embrace and I know with certainty that months will pass before I see the light in your eyes illuminate my face. Thursday's can be hard, like hourless days that pass before and after. Maybe next week I won't love you the way I loved you this week, my conviction to my own memories is more harsh than any punishment and I hope I won't love you tomorrow the way I love you today. Am I that transparent, my thoughts run through my veins to my heart written on my skin, my eyes, my hands like a picture show for all to see. Maybe someday I won't love you like I loved you that one day. I hope tomorrow will be the day when the sun will shine without your name, and someday will become Friday...