|
| |
Bridges
Distance, even for a short while, still is
Whether it’s a river or a stream, you still need a bridge
But bridges burn
And even when they don’t
They weather
They rot
They fall apart so slowly
You don’t notice until the floorboards have collapsed beneath you
And you’re left with nothing
Just the remnants of the bond you thought would last forever
Clutched to your chest in agony as you desperately try to fit the pieces back together
Tape and glue and screws and staples won’t fix it
So you begin to fall apart, too
And those staples and screws and tape and glue
Are never enough
To get you through.
Copyright ©
Brooke Zerbs
|
|