If I stay, I lose myself. If I leave, I lose you. If I wait, I’ll never be the one you choose. If I move on, it will never be you. So what am I supposed to do? If I go left, there is nothing right. If I go right, there is nothing left. If I go left, there is nothing right. If I go right, there is nothing left. I have stood here too long, one foot in the wound, one foot near the door, holding a love that doesn’t know how to hold me anymore. You are still the voice my heart runs toward. Still the name that ruins the silence. Still the almost I keep finding in every life I try to imagine. But I am tired of disappearing gently, of smiling through the damage, of making a home inside a place where I keep losing rooms inside myself. And I know leaving won’t save me cleanly. It will hurt in new places. It will turn ordinary mornings into empty rooms. It will make every song sound like a door I cannot open. So what am I supposed to do? If I go left, there is nothing right. If I go right, there is nothing left. If I go left, there is nothing right. If I go right, there is nothing left. One road takes me away from you. The other takes me away from me. And I don’t know which loss I am strong enough to survive. I keep looking for a sign, but the sky says nothing. The streetlights blink. My hands shake. Your memory stands there like it still has the right to ask me to stay. If I stay, I lose myself. If I leave, I lose you. If I wait, I become the pain. If I move on, I become someone new. And that is the cruelest part. Not the ending. Not the silence. Not the goodbye. It is knowing that either way something dies. So what am I supposed to do? If I go left, there is nothing right. If I go right, there is nothing left. If I go left, there is nothing right. If I go right, there is nothing left.
