A Weeks Time

A week.

Seven days,

lagging on and on.

The clock pauses for dramatic effect,

but the alarm will go off soon.

The alarm to mark:

When our time is up.

When you are gone.

When a week is over.

How can I say all I need to

How can I get the thoughts straight in my head,

if I only have a week with you?

Will I even be able to speak at all?

I'm not ready, but I tell myself I am.

I have to be.

No options or solutions.

Only a week.

I'll play for you all the songs I know

Maybe you can sing them to Jesus when you see him.

I'll impress your memory into me,

like duplicating a key.

I wont ever forget you.

Your laugh,

your scent,

the way you always cry in movies.

But this isn't a movie.

So we don't have to cry.

I know it's only "see you later".

Even still, I don't have enough time,

to tell you everything that needs to be said.

Thank you.

I love you.

You mean the world to me.

You taught me so much.

How can I show you all of that

in only 7 days?