I usually don’t notice things
Like eyes,
Or ears,
Or lips.
But I know yours are blue
Like sorrow,
Or sky,
Or lines on blank paper.
I wonder if my choice was the right one
Like fear,
Or failure,
Or pain.
Then I try to remember
His ears,
His lips,
Or his eyes.
I don’t know what colour they are
Like hope,
Or hurt,
Or attraction.

And I know I made the right choice
Like smiles,
Like stories,
Like blue eyes.