Loving you wasn’t something I did; it was something that happened to me.

How nice it would have been
to have been the one with choice,
to have ever been the leader,
to have ever had a voice.

Love, I have been told,
is something that you share
but you and I was only you
as far as you did care.

I was strung along;
I was useful at the time,
but once you’d had your fun
I was left behind.

What about my choices?
What about my will?
What I want to you is useless
and yet I want you still.

I wish that I had spoken
when it was not too late
but I guess my indecision
sealed to me my fate.

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