And if I loved you more than you loved me,
would anyone in truth of it be wise?
I measure you not in soliloquy,
but how you hold me when I start to cry.
If all the world did freeze and cease to turn,
the sun, and moon, and stars exit stage left,
the feeling would be something like this burn
that scalds me as you take up my time— theft.
We laugh, we cry, I hurt, we hug— but see?
I know that doubt will live here in my head,
so long as you share not your heart with me;
it’s easier to fade away instead.
I love you still, but needing to be free,
I’ll take the heart you left; it still belongs to me.
