“Choices not chance determine destiny,”
She said to me.
“You chose to be with me
So I must be your destiny.”
She’s right, in a sense.
Though we’re more like a fated occurrence.
Which, in some eyes, is the same thing.
“I can’t be strong
When you bring out my weaknesses,”
I tell her.
But all she heard was,
“I can’t be.”
So she agrees with me and leaves.
I wish I could see her face
When she wonders if there’s more.
By
Antony Vincent Plocido ã1997
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