Seventy-two

one of many in a collection of love poems.

And the worst part is:
I know exactly what I need to do
to move on.
Love is a choice,
and it is a choice I make
every day.
If I stop making plans,
if I let you keep your distance,
it would hurt.
But that hurt would change.
It would transform into
a breath of relief.
I am choosing to hurt.
You are giving me the keys
to be free.
I just have to believe:
one day it will pass
if I let it.
And I am scared to lose
you, what we have,
what we could be.
But I am also scared
to lose myself
to keep you.
When I stare at the ceiling
in my bed and it’s dark,
I see you.
And my chest aches
in two ways that
I equally hate.
One: embarrassment.
The shame of one-sidedly
loving you.
Two: regret.
The fear that the moment
is gone for good.
And even though I know
one day this will hurt less
when I let it;
I know I’ll still miss you
when you fall in love
with someone else.