Maybe you'll start tomorrow with a smile for her.
It doesn't have to be anything big.
(Though it would show entirely too much for your tastes.)
It would be there.
Just for her.
Maybe she'd understand.
Maybe she'd even smile back, and not just in a polite way.
Not fettered; chained with doubts, reservations.
You may deserve them (do deserve them), but they still hurt you, some part of you.
Every single time.
It still seems entirely too much to ask for at this point.
Maybe things will get easier.
Maybe you'll start go out together after work again, and it won't feel so *forced.*
Maybe you'll laugh together, without constantly worrying about what thin ice you're skating on.
Maybe you'll even be able to open up to her, and it won't feel like you're *hacking* at yourself, your vault of secrets to say those words.
Maybe she'll understand.
Maybe she'll get what this means to you, what *she* means to you.
Maybe she'll even care.
Maybe... but you can't let yourself go there, even in the land of maybes.
Because it hurts too much to even think about, too much to even consider...
Because you've branded that truth into your heart and soul, ever since you discovered...
That you care. About her. More than you should.
You can never even consider that she might return your feelings...
She won't. And you've got to accept that.
(But maybe, just maybe...)
But you're out of maybes, and out of time, because he's at the door, and he's opening the door, and he's got a...