we'll know more next week

The nurse says my name like she’s late for a train I follow the floor, not the walls There’s a poster of lungs that look cleaner than mine And a plant that’s been plastic for years The doctor keeps standing, one hand on the door Like this won’t take very long Says a lot without saying too much Like he learned how to word things wrong He circles a word, then scratches it out Like it matters which one he means He says we’ll know more next week Like that’s supposed to help me breathe Like my life’s not leaning forward On a sentence that’s vague, incomplete I nod like I’m fine, like I didn’t hear it Like I’ve done this dance before But everything’s waiting on next week Even things I can’t pause anymore I still go to work, still answer my phone Still laugh at the usual jokes But every plan feels penciled in Like it might get erased if I hope I google nothing, then everything I stop halfway through I don’t want to know what I don’t know yet But I don’t know what not to do Every sound in the house feels louder at night Like it knows what I’m waiting to hear Yeah we’ll know more next week That’s the line that won’t let me sleep It’s not bad news, it’s not good It’s just hanging there over me I tell myself not to borrow trouble Like that’s something I can choose When the whole damn world feels rented Till next week comes through There’s groceries in the fridge going bad There’s a birthday I said I’d attend There’s a life that keeps asking questions I don’t know how to answer yet If this is nothing, it’s cruel If it’s something, it’s worse Funny how a maybe can weigh More than a yes or a no Yeah we’ll know more next week I repeat it like a prayer I doubt I say it out loud to the mirror Just to hear what it sounds like now I don’t need hope, I don’t need truth I just need the waiting to end But all I’ve been handed is next week And the version of me till then The calendar flips like it always does No warning, no relief Just me learning how long life can feel Between now and next week