this shall be the last poem I write about
our old love.
I maintain to love you
even when I don’t like being around you anymore,
even when I don’t like you anymore.
I understand now
that this is the mature kind of love,
where it is a true choice.
I know this love endures
and I know it stands on its own.
I loved you on the good days.
I loved you on the bad days.
And I loved you, when it was hard to love you.
I loved you, when you showed your darkest side,
or when I couldn’t bare your company.
And I still love you when I let you go.
And I still love you, when I leave you.
Because I choose to.
xxj
[still…
you and I together,
we only exist in past tense]