The Road Not Taken

The Road Not Taken prose poem

Photo by m.ikezu

Some paths were never meant to be crossed
But they do anyway against all rules
These are the roads memories are made of
And the people you never thought to ever love
A friend to be remembered
The one I chanced to meet
A person in life I shouldn’t have known
But do so anyway…

And now that I have met such a person
What do I do?
Defy the world to be with him?
Or just savor and build beautiful memories of our own?
‘Cause, defiance leads to sadness and pain all around
While sweet memories linger on
Bringing a smile to your lips
When you are all alone….

But memories and separation
Lead to heartache and tears
And times in which you wish that
These agonizing times could be made easy
By having a shoulder to cry on…
But that is not to be
And pain has to be borne alone

These are the times when I wonder
Are these the roads I never should have taken,
Not leaving destiny to take its own course?
Should I have grappled with my fate and said
Leave me..
I want no heartaches, no tears no separation
And the answer came to me:
Then have no memories either.

Rate the poem
1 Star2 Stars3 Stars4 Stars5 Stars (1 votes, average: 3.00 out of 5)
We are posting your rating...

Have something to say about the poem?

Poems you will love

Give your feedback / review for the poem

Be the First to Comment & Review poem!

Notify of
avatar
wpDiscuz

Not That Type Of Poem

Not That Type Of Poem long poem

Sorry death But I’m going to cheat on you With life that is She’s too beautiful With her crisp fresh air days And her sun filled rays In this poem This girl lives for another day I finally wake up

I Fear Not

I Fear Not short poem

As I leave this world, I worry not. I’ll simply move on to the next. I’ve been to many places will be to many more. What we see is not all there is. Realms upon realms there truly be. Existence

Road War

Road War short poem

Hoisting the bisexuality on a figurine, I crawl back to anxiety. The primitive instinct was taking over the stitches on a snake. What do you want from a moon for the drooling mouth of a seashell? Braiding the breasts against

I Am Not

I Am Not short poem

Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the

I Am Not

I Am Not short poem

Time capsule in gangrene foot. It was madness of the legs. There were no sins in the ghetto. Only illicit distillation and girls changing the beds. It stinks when he says he was god. What was the ism of the