and I won’t drop everything to rush to your bedside
and we won’t have a deathbed reunion
where we realize making up is more important than holding a grudge.
Maybe I’ll get hit by a truck
and I’ll die
along with the possibility of ever telling you I miss what used to be between us
and you won’t see any reason to attend my funeral.
Maybe our lives are more real than a telenovela
and we will never have a moment so dramatic
and we will simply continue
and never cross paths again.
I think the idea of dying suddenly hurts me less.