I knew in two months
I would love you.
I find it easier to write poems about pain;
but I've made up my mind
about you,
so I have
no choice.
And I was scared, but I chose,
and I was scared, but I chose
to love the uncertainties
and all the years that led to now.
And I'll choose you until
you stop choosing me;
and I can't spend my life
fearing when and if this would be
if I want this moment--
if I want to feel more important to
someone than I've ever been--
and to think no less of me,
or wonder why no one else has.