Wednesday, October 14, 2015

The Bridge


It rattled and creaked as the wind of time
Weaved through its ageing wood.
I never walked back once I crossed,
They didn't try convincing,
None could.

Poison ivy of memories grew on its footsteps,
Threatening to crossover in my new world.
I burned that parasite of a bridge,
One day when my anger hurled.

Now,
Its ashes lay dead; benign,
They only ache my heart when I look.
And I don't look; I have erased my thoughts,
And regret is off the hook.

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