observation of self

with a heart forever broken
I assign different men
the privilege of blame

i choose you

for what its worth
its you i think of
when the light turns

its you i will to dreams
to play in sequence
the last times that you were
close enough to touch

i remember knowing
i would have you to miss
grateful now
for the memory of each and every

Its nice to think
to think of you in sheets
that hold your smell
while i lay around
thinking of your hands

but still
no matter the magic
no matter the truth
i cant help but wonder
if this truth
lives in my head alone

i see now
my love forever fleeting
always knowing
this too shall pass
pretending not to notice
that you've seen as many ends as beginnings
accepting that without end there can be no beginning
no beginning
to delude you to fall

So even when faced with the same streets
in different hands
the same words conveying
all new
familiar feelings
I would rather still believe

I choose a god who is doomed to fail

with open eyes and empty palms
i choose
without hesitation of the hurt
knowing full well of the high
anticipating the crash

For what its worth
I chose love
today and tomorrow
i write you letters
you will never read
but will someday know
by heart