This piece explores the idea of choice~

Chatting, strolling home,
We pass down winter streets,
Tall dark figure lurches towards us.

Negotiation is futile.
Alcohol has vaporized his heart.

You stride foward, as you always have,
Surging past me with your certainty.
"Don't turn around, keep up!"
But your warnings fall on deaf ears.

My feet cannot fill you open footsteps.
My legs cannot move at your pace.
Only born 22 days apart.
But forever 3 steps behind.

In another life, I could choose to be that man,
Chasing your steps, never finding mine.

Time has led us to a crossroads.
Feet rooted in reality, we turn,
to face each other and our future paths:
You wave goodbye, I wish good luck.

I cannot follow your path.
But I will not follow his path.

One Choice;My Choosing.

Tentative steps,
then lengthening strides
breaking into a run,
Pulse pounds.
I fill my lungs with Breath and Life.
I fill my own footsteps.

The End

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