may the rain wash this away

I wonder if you feel a measure of blame
Towards me
For quietly, abruptly,
Writing an end to that story.
We made this bed
But I lay down first.
I chose him--
So cliche, as though there was a choice to begin with
(There was, there always is)
--Of course I did.
I had to.
I am that choice.
But since snuggling into that den we made together, alone
I find I have been carving off pieces of myself
And tucking them away for you
To present in a future that may (will, can, should) not be.
No. 
I cannot
Should not
And there is the struggle that plagues.
Me, if not you
I wouldn't know. 
What I have learned: 
Just because you want
Does not mean you deserve
Does not mean you can
Does not mean you get.
I liked myself in that story
Though it was not the kindest
Purest
Goodest
Self I have ever been
But it felt like bliss
And for that I do penance.