Bridges

There’s talk of bridges
being burnt to
the ground, ones I don’t
ever remember crossing.
It puts me at unease
and makes me retrace my steps;

  but I don’t remember walking over you.

Your sorrow weighs on me
like a mischievous ray of
light demanding attention
on a sleepless night, and
I’d rather just pull the covers
over my head and pretend it’s
not there –

but you shine it right into
my eyes.

So I say
I’m sorry she broke
your heart,

and you ask
me why I’m so dead inside.

I suspect you’re genuinely curious.

Advertisements

3 thoughts on “Bridges

  1. Its about expectations.
    What we feel when articulated,
    we understand and refine ourselves.
    Sorrow and happiness are like playgrounds,
    where we learn to shape ourselves.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s