Bridges and Morgues

Brutally honest, I’m a wreck.

I’ve got nothing to offer, nothing to give.

I’ve wrung the last of my heart

Above the page, trying to create some

Semblance of love, of skill.


Looking like hell in a handbasket,

Unstable and uncomfortable.

Fixing your tie in the mirror at the morgue,

This is where we are now.

At the far end of silence, past wistfulness.


As we lay down again, ending the

Shortened winter day with

Passionless bitter smiles plastered

To hide our growing discontent.

I sigh a small relief at imminent sleep.


Building a bridge is so much

Harder when you have previous burnt

Remains impeding the progress.

Wishing to have it all fresh, a new start.

No footprints in the snow.


Whispering with love,

Start again with passion, don’t let the moment hold you back.

Look into their eyes with strength, knowing yours hold stars.


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