Maybe you'll come talk to me again tomorrow.
Maybe I'll keep finding things to say that make you laugh(your laugh is loud and barking, but sweet and suited to you).
Maybe you'll see something in me that I struggle to find a glimpse of.
Maybe I'll open up to you.
Maybe you'll come see my show and say hi afterwards.
Maybe I'll invite you to something other than a play some day.
Maybe you'll text me.
Maybe I'll keep myself together if you do.
Maybe we'll talk about our writing, our favorite music, our favorite books, our lives and stories.
Maybe we'll be star-crossed lovers that found each other in a random place, or maybe we'll be the truest of friends.
Maybe we'll part ways and never speak again(or worse, speak only occasionally).
Maybe we'll slow burn, like a warm log in a fireplace that makes a rainy fall day cozy instead of miserable.
Maybe we'll burn out quickly as a shooting star, leaving a trail so bright that the people below walking through the night will look at us and make a wish.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
