Bridges
We no longer talk. There is a wall between us blocking our voices, boomeranging our thoughts.
We knew it would come to this; holding on to let go.
I thought I saw your sister, but I was mistaken.
Seeing things. Seeing people who do not belong.
If one more person asks me how you’re doing, I am going to lose it! How do you tell someone, "I don’t know" without sounding like you do know?
Fact of the matter is, I knew for so long, it’s hard not to know.
But, I don't anymore.
At 25, we tried again. Why? Weren’t the bridges already burned? Whose idea was it?
It was mine. Aah, yes. It was mine. I wanted to see if we could rise above my mistakes and move on.
We couldn't.
A parted sea greeted us just to throw us into a whirlpool of terror and fleeting feelings.
There was nowhere to turn. There was nowhere to run. We had lived our last life together and dying was inevitable.
I remember 16. It was easier with you. 25... 25 became a sword meant to cut us in half and it did.
Every memory of us lies beneath a battered bridge on the verge of collapsing.
