My eyes have a convenient haze when they look at you.  Allowing me only to see what I am ready to see.

Do you see me?

Do you want to?

Are you looking?

Maybe it is time to remove the haze.  Maybe what I am not ready to see is ready for me.  Maybe it always has been.

Why do you continue to love me? Love is such a finicky word.  Changing its meaning with the tone of voice. I’m not quite sure if love feels good or that it is as great as most make it out to be. 

It can feel like prison bars that the outside world envies. Almost as if the lovers are shackled to an idea rather than a person.  Is that love? 

We face opposite directions in bed at night.

Yet I know exactly when he is awake.

Stretch

Yawn

Roll over

Get up

Well-rehearsed choreography.

Yet there is a part of me that refuses to let go, deep down I hear “don’t give up”

Walking away doesn’t feel like the answer and continuing this way doesn’t work either.

So what’s next?

Does love mean that you agree to grow together trembling and uncertain? 

It seems love is more of a decision than a feeling.  Feelings fluctuate, sometimes reliable but change like the weather. 

A decision is sober, conscious, consistent 

I don’t believe we truly love if we have one without the other

It’s hard to decide on anything because there is always a chance you are wrong

But there is also a chance you are right