I was on the plateau when it happen.

I always hated going under it in the middle of the day. It felt like a mirror; a reflected isomer — too still and too sad to be near. Shadows give that same feeling, but with blurred corners feeling slightly farther away.

I prefer going under the bridge at night. Cooler, like sunglasses that you don’t have to put on. The night as a way of saying, “It’s not up to you what you get to see now. I decide what’s important for you. Which is absolutely nothing”.

We pass over to see what's on the other side
- They say that the grass is always greener
and I haven't seen vibrant colors in so long.
This melancholy feeling of fate
and choice is paralyzing
and uplifting.  

Cross over
the same spot that many before
found a dead end carved out by a stream.
Instead, they sat by the tallest tree
and divulged their secrets -
oh if the leaves could talk!

The water under the bridge
lies beneath to be forgotten.
But it flows steady
so that deer and pheasants can sip;
the splashing, rippling tide
echoes like our footsteps
as we pass into oblivion.

Once our feet hit the ground,
we take note of those around:
those who stayed behind
are the dandelion seeds surrounding us, drifting in the wind.
those who joined us
are the trees lined along the path.

If you try to back-track,
you'll find that the bridge can only be crossed once.

Every step you take
takes you to your next destination.
Some roads may be straight or curved
or some sort of alternation.

You will come across many bridges.
Some up high and some on the ground.
Some will navigate you to beautiful sights
and some will have scary, creaky sounds.

Bridges enlighten you on a new paths.
You don't know where that will be.
Each bridge will tell you something.
You just have to step forth and see...

The bridge we built over the gap between us is rotting away.
This time when I walk over it, I may fall through it.
Your coldness left the bridge to corrode, we could have mended it together. You never let me enter anymore, you leave me with your silence at your front door.
Let me in, my dear. Let me in. Don't try to forget me, because you will only remember what I did wrong. I want to see you, I want to hold you, and make up for what I left hollow and broken.
Your smile, once illuminated the darkness that now surrounds this bridge, allowing me to cross without a given issue. That smile has faded, your gaze turns from me, no longer holding me in it. The back of your head is colder than darkest reaches of space can muster. Turn back, my dear. I need to see you, to engage you, to speak to you, to know how you feel.
Don't push me away. Don't run away. Don't hide away. Draw back the curtain to show me what is behind. I need to know. The bridge is crumbling into the abyss below. I need to know before it collapses, severing our connection. Let's fix this bridge together, let's regain our once strong connection.

Such a weak bridge,
I thought I had a strong connection,
How are you so quick to burn it down.
Won’t even talk it out,
Would rather sit in silence and doubt.

I don’t understand how the love and appreciation could be lost in a single drive,
Ready to kick me out and cry.
All my good character thrown out in a single thought,
I guess I was never really much to you,
I guess this bridge is something that can’t be built but bought.
Take your time, lose your friends,
You’re gonna have to grow up someday, or maybe not.

You always ask:
"If your friends wanted to jump off a bridge, would you?"
and I say no, of course...

But
secretly
I hope I'm asked to go first

and you do, too