I never want to be chosen because the other options leave. See me as your only even as they tug at your sleeve.
And don’t wear black because you’ve messed up the white. Go wash it out if it’s what you want.
I want to be seen while am still here, cherished when am dingy and looking worse for the wear.
And don’t bemoan an absence that you set into being, when the presence was a present but remained unseen.
Make the choice that you just can’t help, that even in a sea of options, you see none else.
I can’t live the way you’re attempting to. Because I know that some things in life are inevitable, and still others are left too long and too late.
So for Nole, you do not complete me. I am whole on my own. And you are the accompaniment to my soul.