A Bridge Leading to Nowhere

The flames flicker violently under the decrepit boards of a forgotten bridge.
Our shadows dance like giants in the silence of the cold distant night.
I catch myself wondering if I am still there; listening; crying; laughing.
Smoke slithers like a snake through the cracks staring down on us.
We recoil from the chaotic surroundings of lives we do not understand.
I wonder how long I have been here; reconstructing; lamenting; missing.
The smoldering wood hisses as we douse the fire clinging to our souls.
Ashes scatter on the rocky floor like dreams shattered against reality.
I struggle to remember every detail; the lines; the verse; the fading pages.

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4 thoughts on “A Bridge Leading to Nowhere

  1. sometimes i think i would go back and relive those days if i could – but then again i was generally more miserable then than now so maybe not.

    still – nites under the bridge defined my existence and i miss every detail.

    maybe some homecoming we will all make it back for the weekend and have the chance for one more nite neath the bridge.

    ever wonder at the irony of those nites taking place under a ‘suspension’ bridge?

  2. somewhat comical. if anything we should have let the stars be our ceiling.

    i’m not sure I want to go back. i think i like my memory of it more than i would like it in the present.

    i use to have dreams that brownwood got huge, and the road to the bridge was lined with a gas station, a wal-mart like superstore, and a strip mall. i really could be crazy.

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