A Tomorrow Three Weeks Long
It was always tomorrow.
Tomorrow he'd finally say it.
Tomorrow he'd admit to the butterflies.
Tomorrow he'd tell the famous "I Love You"
Always just "I'll do it tomorrow"
It was always tomorrow.
Tomorrow would be the day he'd quit hiding.
Tomorrow would be the day he'd come out and ask.
Tomorrow would be the day he'd take a leap of faith.
Always just "I can do this… tomorrow."
It was always tomorrow.
Tomorrow blended into two days.
Tomorrow blurred to become five days.
Tomorrow morphed into a week.
Tomorrow was soon a dozen mornings.
Tomorrow dragged on to two weeks point twenty-eight fifty-seven.
And then it was three weeks.
And on the morning of the twenty-first day it happened.
A knock on a door,
A flash of a nervous smile,
A gulp as cheeks blushed pink,
"Hey? Have I ever told you—"
"—don't worry, I love you too."
Tomorrow was three weeks too long.
But if that's what it took.
If it took all of those tomorrows,
And there was no other way,
I'd live tomorrow over again and again,
Just for you.
To Ludwig, who finally got around to saying it.
And to Feliciano, who answered too fast.
To Alfred, who took the leap,
And to Arthur, who waited until the knock on the door.
To Lovino, who was as red as a tomato.
And to Antonio, who knew to never stop until he said it.
To everyone else, who waited until tomorrow.