your love

Your love is like a fork in the road -
Your love forces me to decide on a personna;
from all of the potential torias
I choose, every day, to be the one who loves you back.

Your love is a leg brace.
I can walk but I have to walk your way.
You found a half and you will leave me whole;
but I know that your love has wrapped itself around me
and that I am growing to fit it,
but reluctantly.

Your love is reality, and I am haunted with old dreams.
Your love is fluorescent lighting in fitting rooms;
it makes me hate myself.
Your love is the second flame in my life,
and I flit from one to the other like a moth
unable to decide which is more attractive.
And when I realize that I have lost all discipline,
all focus,
all integrity,
then I see myself for what I am,
for what your love makes me,
and I want to live without your love.

Your love is like a concave mirror -
it inverts everything.
Your love makes me selfish and unselfish in all the wrong places.
When I would normally act in my own best interest,
I find myself unable to ignore the heartbreak it would cause you.
And when I would perhaps decide to put my dreams aside
and settle into this excellent reality,
I am as unable to see past my wants as any spoiled child.

Your love is a mystery, and mine is twice as mysterious.
I am a fabulous girlfriend; I am everything you could want.
But I betray you every day, in my heart.
I suppose no one else would call it betrayal,
but that's not much comfort.
I know what to call it
even if no one else does.

You are the love that it never occurred to me to dream of,
because I would never have dreamed so big.
You offer me a good relationship;
the chance to be someone I desperately want to be.
I am terrified, every day, that I just don't have it in me.