We have burned the bridges. All. We have lit the match. We have watched it fall. I no longer know the voice when you call.
We are not friends or lovers. We are now absentee voters. We are nothing to each other. Forget the times we were better, like when we would dance, remember nothing of us together. We never had a chance.
When a thing is dead, good and truly over, Nothing more is said. We move on in silence and put the past to bed.
Don't look for me in torchlight, on the other side of this chasm, I am vanished into goodnight with dreams of almost had it and fresh wounds from the old bite.
We have burned the bridges. Every one. And with the coming day we squint into the sun. We are heavy handed, cold and in silence we are undone.