Door number one was what I've always wanted;
Honeyed words promised I would not be haunted.
Door number two is what I dreaded the most;
Doughy words promised I would be left closed.


I could have spent more time with him if the first was chosen,
Yet, the persistant beating in my chest is what left me frozen.


The beating object in my chest ripped.

what happened next,

there was no way to predict.

what had made me feel trapped,

finally snapped

as I chose door number two.


© written.in.emeralds