scrap-of-paper poem

[found part of this written on a teeny piece of paper in my purse today. i love when i keep things around.]

sometimes i think i'm in love,
but it's really just the blues,
sudden and explained.

i get thrown off-kilter
and everything looks beautiful
and loveable,
just because i think i'm not.

those blues
bleed into melancholy
and i could keep myself down
for days on end.

it's so much easier to think
that you've caused it,
that my heartache comes from
somewhere other than
this swollen, beating thing
in between my own ribs.

i'd pick love
over the blues
any day.
but sometimes,
a girl
just doesn't get to choose.