Possibilities

One day,

We shall wake up next to our faces,

With my fingers running through your hair,

With your hand subtly patting my cheek.

It is on a Sunday morning,

Accompanied by a Maroon 5's tune,

On my guitar with my fingers dancing,

And our lips syncing.

But this all will end,

When we're all broken, not just bent,

And nothing we can do to mend,

And we no longer can pretend.