the dancing caterpillars

Maybe one day I’ll wake up and the tears won’t immediately threaten to sting my eyes.
Perhaps someday my dreams won’t be my save haven from the waking world.
Maybe soon the sound of your name spoken lightly by an innocent passerby won’t make me cringe in loss.
Perhaps eventually I’ll be able to look at old photos of us and smile instead of hyperventilate.
Maybe sooner or later this deep sting inside of my chest will go away and I will stop mourning what never was.
Perhaps when all is said and done, in some distant future, an alternate universe, one where caterpillars dance and butterflies sing, I won’t miss you- and I won’t care that I don’t.
But maybe not.
—  Miranda Eckert