The Chosen Road
Yes, the other road was a dead end,
but at least I knew where it led.
Yet, I chose yours, not daring to offend
the love I now see your eyes have shed.
I thought your arms could keep me safe
from the cold ruthlessness of the world.
Now, I do see--my blindness ruled until it was too late--
true cruelty lay in you, as your fingers 'round the dagger curled.
'Tis too late; the road has closed behind my steps.
I turn around, and fierce thorns scratch my eyes,
for, as I my gaze upon your road�s destination kept,
behind, the exit I never wished to take was o'ergrown with lies.
Ahead, I only distinguish the fading glow
of the embers which once lit your eyes.
Their smoke offers no warmth on your cold road.
Your embrace�s safety does not once more answer my cries.
I yearn to remember the path I was on before coming upon your road,
so that I may find some way to return to my own darkness,
where nobody else may hurt me as I carry my load
of broken promises, treacherous kisses and mistaken glances.
I almost wish that I had chosen the other road
and burned myself all the way to its dead end on a black sea coast,
so that I had never known the pain which now unmercifully goads
my tired, trapped, and agonizing heart. . .Almost. . . .
Copyright �2004 Surey Rodr�guez