Yes, your actions wound me But I will not command you to do a thing
Love is a choice And within that choice is more decision
Because love does not command of another It prefers blind hope
Blind hope, which fails every so often But I choose to love you through my aching
The pain you inflict is only temporary My hurt feelings will scab over
Love is choice, after choice, after choice And patience – a whole lot of patience
For WY A whole lot of word ***** that didn't come out as charming as I hoped it would. This poem is just a lot of truth to the matter. There isn't a pretty bow wrapped around it or anything.