born to be chosen

If she truly loved me,

my heart would not be waiting

in a dim corner of her doubt,

a plan B,

a backup breath

she reaches for

only when her past refuses

to answer.

If she truly loved me,

her hands would not tremble

dialing an old flame,

begging history

to open a door

that already closed itself.

Love is not a rehearsal.

Not a maybe.

Not a second choice

disguised as destiny.

So let her chase

what she thinks she lost.

Let her run backwards

into yesterday.

I will keep walking forward,

because the love meant for me

will never treat me

like an option

when I was born

to be chosen.