Betrayal is an Unconventional Choice

Down the hole.
You go alone.
You’re forced.
By an instance.
It doesn’t take much.
There was a promise,
it seemed to be solid,
at the time.
Seemed to be
True,
Caring,
Concrete,
Set.
For life.
But it’s extinguished.
Just like that.
With the snap of a finger,
the bat of an eyelash.
He said he’d catch you
but turned.
Only for a second.
But he threw it away,
that’s all it took.
Never the same.
That second gone,
lost in time.
Into the abyss.
You took the fall.
A stumble.
A trip.
A wrong step.
But only slightly.
But it doesn’t matter.
It goes down forever,
farther...
farther...
and farther...
down.
down.
down.
Until you hit the bottom,
forceful, painful, empty,
except for you.
Sitting there,
curling up,
hurting,
crying,
hoping,
wishing,
more than anything,
To be at the edge.
To be the princess.
The damsel in distress.
The one.
His one.
Again.
To rewind time.
No.
For that way, it doesn’t work.
The decision isn’t ours.
Life decides.
Fate decides.
Destiny decides.
And cuts the string,
with shears sharp
as a viper’s fangs.
He looks down,
but takes the hand of another.
Leaving you,
walking,
going opposite ways.
But never ceasing
to look back.
For now.
But soon,
he may.
So you think.
And you ponder.
And you wish,
And you know you need
to decide.
And you take the viper’s bite,
venom pulsing,
slowly slithering up your veins.
Risk.
Chance.
Odds.
Choose.
Do you climb up, or give up?

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