I was not your fate
though we chose each other once
you sleep next to him.

Three roads once lay before my eyes,
Beneath the sweep of silent skies.
The first was wide—a golden lane,
Where countless walked to dodge all pain.

It rang with laughs, with joy and cheer,
A life designed to mask all fear.
With rules to follow, dreams pre-made,
Where comfort kept the truth delayed.

The second glowed, but few would tread,
Where thinkers dwelled and logic led.
They questioned deep, they reasoned well,
But stayed within a guarded shell.

They built their truths with thought and care,
Yet never leapt beyond the air.
For all they saw, they feared the cost
Of seeking more, or being lost.

The third was cloaked in breath of shade,
A road where light and meaning fade.
No stars above, no voice, no guide—
Just silence stretched on either side.

It seemed I stood with choice in hand,
But deep inside, I’d never stand.
The first road smiled with soft deceit—
A velvet lie beneath my feet.

It offered peace, a gentle chain,
With dreams that dulled the edge of pain.
But in that ease, my fire grew thin—
A quiet death beneath the skin.

The second shone with sharpened grace,
But held me bound in one still place.
A cage of mind, of bright control,
That fed the brain, but starved the soul.

They lit the dark, but feared to leap,
So clung to truths they chose to keep.
They stood so close to something true,
But feared what change would make them do.

The third—it bled, it bit, it burned,
And showed me truths I’d never learned.
Each breath was torn, each step left scar—
A trail that broke but led me far.

No cheers ahead, no lights behind,
Just hollow winds and thoughts unkind.
Yet in the silence, sharp and clear,
I felt a voice the brave don’t hear.

It warned, “This road will lead to none.
It breaks the soul, it leaves you done.”
But pain revealed what fear had masked—
And so I walked, no questions asked.

No end in sight, no promised land,
Just storms that tore through where I stand.
Yet through the wreckage, fierce and true,
The shattered path was pulling through.

So let me fade, without a sound—
No song, no stone, no hallowed ground.
Though I vanish, lost and gone,
I walked the path that led me on.

She'd said
she'd buy the flowers herself.
She knew what to get.
She'd found a reliable florist.
And she had the time
to select the perfect arrangement.

That's what the Funeral Director
told us at the Co-op.

And on the day, we all agreed -
the flowers were lovely.
And no one was left
in any doubt -
she'd have loved them.

I should have left.
That first moment,
when my heart convulsed.

But i was stubborn,
I didn’t.
I stayed.
I had to know.
I had to risk it.

The body knows,
before the mind does.

Some truths whisper first,
shatter later.

Always the lover,
Never the loved.
Always the healer,
Never the healed.
Always the photographer,
Never the photographed.
Always the helper,
Never the helped.
Always the cheerer,
Never the cheered.
Always the painter,
Never the painting.
Always the poet,
Never the poem.
Always the option,
Never the priority.
Always the lister,
Never the heard.
Always the writer,
Never the muse.
Always the understanding,
Never the understood.

i hate the process of getting to know each other,
if you loved me
you would know
that you want to be with me.
you are simply playing,
playing with the choices.
i’m not a option,
i am free.

You choose silence,
When you can express,
But every minute,
You can put off the talk,
You can engage in,
That's a kind of freedom.