I Choose It

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He gave up on me.
He didn’t want my sweet honey any longer.
He thought he’d find someone sweeter
and I became stronger.
He’s afraid of me now
though he’d never admit it.
And I wonder how this
being I find myself pitying
is the same one I met
and felt so much love for
when love’s first blush
painted the rosiest of pictures.
I love reality because I choose it,
and I live life because I love it,
and meanwhile reality and life
owe me nothing.
How could I be so blessed
to see the beauty of the wounding
and accept the turn our lives have taken?
He set me free. This is a gift.
And I choose it.

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