
I've never blown up a bridge before
even the abandoned ones
I watch the wild growth creep in
I tend to the discarded roots
oil the railings with an old cloth
restore the memories
like an old cemetery one likes to visit
to tell ghost stories
this time is different
I've set the explosives down myself
I want no trace left
no sharp edges that can cut
no rubble to trip over
no embers left to burn
I want a clean demolition
give me back what is mine
you can have all that is yours
it was never truly given
About the Creator
Sarah Lenn
Using writing as a way to capture snapshots of emotion on a screen whilst life happens. And life has thrown me some curve balls. Always striving to find a path through the chaos...
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.