I choose you.

The wedding, the house, the car.

 Quiet sundays on the sofa that we chose and carried back from the store when we first moved in.

The rushed mornings where I make you breakfast and a coffee.

No milk, the way you like it.

The child we raise that wears the dungarees your mum still kept from when you were a baby.

The family we build over decades who share our faces.

They have children, their children have children, and we become great grandparents.

We are old and withered but we are together.

We start and end our lives together.

That is all I want.

I am fulfilled

and I chose you.

I pray to God that its you.

The trouble is I dont believe in God.

maybe when there’s no one else to turn to,

 when I am desperate.

There is no God

and you leave,

you explore the world,

I stay,

I finish my degree,

I try and do a masters,

I try and write,

I try and get my work published,

and you are long gone.

The world took you, and you let it.

I chose you and you chose yourself.

They way it should be,

choose yourself.

But I am unable to do that.

You are all consuming to me.

So I try and I try and I try,

I die trying,

still hoping that you will choose me.