Dread.
It's usually the same.
Panic and anxious breath and
dread.
     dread.
          dread.
One day, I always say, we will want something better
Something healthier
Absent of accusation and blame and misperception
Something that lifts us up beyond this hurt
Allowing us to remember why I risked everything
Why we thought it was worth what it's worth
And why we hurt people - for years
Just to be together
Fate decided to twist our guts into knots instead of granting us peace and togetherness at last
Replaced by isolation and burning tears
And now Tuesdays are those confrontations with fate
Do we spend the rest of the time we have building walls, favoring hope, or taunting hate?

Has it really been so long,
Since this bridge was burned?

It still seems so fresh
in my mind.

I gaze over the canyon,
Only to see nothing.

I look for you,
Nothing.

It's so hard to get away,
from the edge of this precipice.

Still I gaze,
with just a shimmer of hope.

Why do I keep coming back here?

I need to leave,
I need to live.

But I can't help but wonder,
If I'll see you again.

But I can't stay here,
looking over these ruins

lying on the canyon floor.

I need to realize,
That this bridge is burnt.

That it isn't coming back.

You're not coming back.

I need to leave,
but I don't know where to go.

So I guess I'll be here
waiting on the edge,
of where this bridge used to be.