in our choice there was never

we could’ve never been just two people in love. i loved him, but i loved myself staying at home more, lazing around with my pen and the world i would never walk on. he loved me, but he loved himself going out to explore the world i carefully drew with my black pen and brought a child back. he could still say to my face he loved me. if i didn’t throw up, rolled my eyes, then we would’ve been just two people stupidly in love. i didn’t. but, can i recognize him now?