Not respite.

You’re a bulls eye shot in the dark, a losing bet.
You fell in love with me in spite of being so surely in love.
To me, you’re not an "in spite of", you’re not an "and yet”.
You are just my lover, my love, keeper of my heart.
I know I will share you for the rest of my life.
I will live with that. I must.
I just don’t want to be the grudging acceptance.
I don’t want to be the break of promise, your hidden guilt.
The love you have that comes as an afterthought.
The love after your love.
To me, you are it.
Don’t advocate for the other, it is neither my burden nor my care.
Tell me every little thing that crosses your mind, still.
I can’t tell you every time we break my heart,
I will perish soon, if I start acknowledging it.
I just know. Trust me. I know the truth.
When I don’t, I’ll ask.
You took a beautiful song I played to you,
twisted it and played it back for the other, to me.
The chorus still echoes in my head.
Yesterday shattered me.
But thank you for being brutal, crudely so.
It was important to know.
It was important to hurt.
The more I know, the less careful I become.
What would be the point, anyway.
In a burning world,
I chose a fire that was you,
Not respite.