If I could burn the bridge behind
to never pass again…
I wonder if the past would turn
to dust blown in the wind.

But it’s the fear of losing me
amidst the smoke and flame…
That stays my hand to strike the match,
yet buries me in shame.

Perhaps my tears will warp the wood
or cause the boards to rot…
Until I can’t remember what I
wished I had forgot.

It seems it just grows longer
spanning every day before…
As if the past is not enough
it swallows one day more.

It yawns across the rivers
of denial where I’ve wept…
Carnivorous it feeds upon
those secrets that I’ve kept.

To make it fall I wish I could,
to crumble in a heap…
But since I can’t I’ll walk the plank
and finally take the leap.