While you decide--

The weight of my tears are heavy.
The pulse in my veins is thready.
My heart aches, it's not ready.
But my lungs--my lungs remain steady.

My vision blurs as my heart splinters.
My lungs feel frozen, like a lake in winter.
Under the pressure I hear it creak,
I hear it squeak.

The traitorous ******* keep on going.
They open & close beneath the pressure of a broken heart, the oxygen still flowing.

I have weary heart syndrome.
The lungs supply its misery to the beat of their own autonomic metronome.

My heart is looking for the one whom my soul loves.
It is indeed a mourning dove.

A mourning dove inside a cage.
My atriums are fluttering, waiting to see what's written on life's next page.

Is it your name next to mine at the starting line?
I thought I was, but now I wonder if that was ever genuine?

You are the person I choose.
But also my favorite person I'm terrified to lose...

My heart is breaking.
My soul is aching.

Please, won't you choose me like I have chosen you?