The weight of the decision is heavy.
Just thinking about it feels clandestine, like a betrayal of the worst kind
I feel like a thief in the night stealing a heart ,
Or robbing a happiness and hope so pure.
A grim reality, a blemish on the horizon of romance
No blotting paper for the heart that leaks
It performs less and less efficiently as a whole or even part of a whole
I’m just not sure whether I can do this anymore
Or whether I can make the choice not to
Which is harder? Which is right?
Is there even a choice to be made?
Or is the mere thought, of a choice a decision bound?
The awkward honesty of the blissful ignorance of a looming and mounting uncertainty
I’m not sure.
I’m not sure
The feathers surrounding the sacred egg that symbolises the unity
The covenant we have entered into
To opt out now would break the mould undoubtedly
And crack and irreparably break what there is
Smearing the feathers perfect and white in mud and marring them forever
Such is the decision that weighs heavily on my heart
I’m not sure.
I’m not sure
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