I'm sitting in the bed with one
thinking of the other
thinking of all the futures that could be
can be
if I just jump
if things just are
the things I'll say
the things I'll need to say
to love the one I love
as keenly as I loved the one I love.

How right is right and how much does right matter?
What is right and what is wrong and how much does it matter?
Is time the judge or is time the test?

my heart is a flipflop hopeless romantic,
rolling on through dreams of ideal days.
Almost kisses, almost brushes, almost moments, almost futures.
Real things, ephemeral things,
things that grasp, things that hold,
such sand between thinning fingers.

He is perfect, he is perfect.
One in one way.
The other in another.

Who do I choose for the future?

Who am I?
Who am I meant to be?