Almost

You look at me like I’m a sunrise,
but I know you’ll close your curtains someday.

You hold my hand like it’s a vow,
but vows always sound louder than they last.

You tell me I feel like home,
but homes get sold, rebuilt, forgotten.

You say I’m the reason you smile,
but reasons change,
like weather, like people.

You promise you’ll stay,
but stay is just another word
that pretends to mean forever.

And I—I keep standing here,
collecting your “always”
like coins that never buy tomorrow.

Because every time you whisper love,
all I hear
is almost.