Words Unsaid

|27| Bridges

I always burn the bridges
the moment they start shaking
the fire makes me high
until the ashes drives me low

but you were always there
to pick up the ash
and build it back anew
when I thought we never could.

then we'd spend days
(or was it years?)
playing
on the mended bridge
slowly cementing and stretching it.

but now time has worked its ruin;
we're on the opposite ends.
And I'm scared that the distance between,
has created different people out of you and me.

we're only holding onto memories, never making new ones,
they're the ropes that are slowly thinning,
and the bridge is again trembling.

I always burn the bridges
the moment they start shaking,
so I'm lighting up the matchstick again,
but a tightening fear grips my hand.

you won't be here
right next to me
if the bridge gets destroyed this time,
leaving only silence for miles and miles.