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Pick me, and not him

When Bella spends time with Jacob, Edward can't stop worrying. The anxiety all but devours him. The worst part? He can't cross the border line. He can't check on her. He just has to trust that she will return. But then again - Why shouldn't she? A poem on Edward's thoughts while Bella is away.

This poem was born on a sunny, warm afternoon here in Switzerland. I was walking to choir when it hit me, and I had to write it all down with my messy, shaky handwriting while walking at the same time. I had a full view over the lake of Zurich, no people around, just me, my pen, and a piece of paper. Idyllic. This is only the second poem I have ever written for anyone to read, so reviews are greatly appreciated and needed. Critique is just as welcome as praise. Both delight me.

1. Chapter 1

Rating 5/5   Word Count 316   Review this Chapter

I will endure these hours with no more than a sigh,
But lost in thought of you with other am I
Does his presence ease up your last knot?
Is he everything that I can be not?
I love you, but he could satisfy your needs.

But please, my dear lady, pick me and not him.

You were euphoric as you left me back here,
The worry will drown me before I shed a tear
Would he be better, only love you?
Knows he no other, would he be true?
A wolf man’s puzzle is a hard one to solve.

So please, my dear lady, pick me and not him.

The loving fashion in which you pronounce his name,
Leads me to think that your feelings are the same
Will I ever be able to let go?
If you must leave, darling, just say so
Though the words will crush me with nothing to spare.

So please, my dear lady, pick me and not him.

An ocean’s worth of tears I could cry,
Don’t leave my body, my eyes remain dry
Is it humanity that you crave for most?
An understandable desire that now found its host?
He would suit you much better than I ever could.

But please, my dear lady, pick me and not him.

An unforgivable mistake has resulted in this point,
My own, cursed failure broke us at our joint
Do the effects reach further than I thought?
Am I a monster, when he, he is not?
A failure no man should be pardoned for.

But still, my dear lady, pick me and not him.

And here I stand, at the border’s door,
Hoping you will return to my arms once more,
And though I’m a monster, and though I’m a fool,
And though I’m a man with much to improve,
And though my mistakes are too dark to cover,
Though no trial would leave me as its winner,
And though your warmth is consumed by my frost,
And my mistakes have cost me your trust,
I love you more than you can comprehend.

So please, my dear lady, pick me and not him.