From the City, to the Island

From a-ways, perhaps,

Is where things would be best left.

Afar, no

For neither heart could stand.

Afar would though, be best,

Smartest, safest,

Lest one heart be cleft in two,

The other shattered.

Too close! Too close!

And yet, we remain.

The danger ever growing, I fear,

Is forth here to stay.

But how can I tell you,

How can it be said?

Could it ever be put delicately enough?

      -no

It is I, who've made this bed.

Yet you have chosen to stay.

Not from a-ways, but from next to my bed.

You've chosen this whirlwind,

Almost as if

There was never a choice.