All the Bridges Burnt

you can’t rebuild all the bridges burnt no matter how hard you try sure you can walk into the ocean the deepest of seas with a little plastic bucket (the kind a young child might use to make a sand castle) & try as hard as you can to bring back to the bellowing flames a bucket full of water to slowly splash out the chaos & torment left by choices made years ago but as quickly as you bring those buckets back as quick as you think you are in this whole thing (hell, you might even be a marathon runner or a triathlete), you’ll never calm the flames--- you’ll never stop the burning & (the damage has been done) only you are to blame (you get to live with it for the rest of your days). no matter how lucid the dreams of reconciliation might seem, you’ll always be savagely brought back to a waking state, standing on the shore between the tide rolling in & that last bridge you burned--- lucky you, that you remember so well lucky you, that it all will replay like some perpetual motion picture never letting you truly rest, never a moment’s peace & you’ll probably live longer than anyone you’ve ever known with all these wonderfully colored sharp & hardened marbles rolling round your skull slicing & rolling rolling & slicing, so that nothing ever heals.