Flame

you cross the bridge and
realize it's burning behind
you and you try to turn back,
but of course it's much too
late for that, there is never
any turning back once you reach
that point that comes an instant
between forging ahead and hesitation.

it's beautiful here in my world today
and i want to throw the windows wide
and share music and laughter with
everyone who passes by, but of course
that's a silly idea, there's too much
smoke in the clear blue sky from all
these bridges i've set on fire.

i tried to touch your soul and came
up with a handful of cold ashes and
the ghost of a smile that you left
behind for me to find. "silly girl,"
i tell myself, "there's no room for
you. mind your manners." and i know
how to be polite and i know how to be
formal and i love to be irreverent
and i love to sit outside on your
porch with my chin in my hands and
listen to you while you weave words
together into stories of what was and
what could have been.

nothing here. just these senseless words
and the feeling that something is lost and
the scent of burning bridges in the breeze.

denise

 

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