i burned the bridges between us,
whittled down this love into dust,
and watched the river weave it away.
i told myself to
build new bridges with the old and broken bricks,
carve and sculpt the dust into someone new,
or wait for the river to return me another lost lover.
or at the least,
leave it there charred and in a thousand pieces,
leave the whittled love as a broken-winged bird,
stop weeping by the waters and feeding it with tears.
and yet you,
you appeared not even as a physical reminder,
not even as a ghost who haunted me, it was
just a word that remotely resembled your name
and you throw me back to
building bridges.