The Bridge Is Not Mine

There are friendships lost to silence,
and bridges black with flame;
I still remember who we were,
though we no longer speak our names.

I carried stone to the ruins,
mistaking guilt for something owed
but bridges must be built from both sides,
or they are only broken roads.

So, I set the stones down at last,
and leave the embers where they lie.
Ill cherish what once crossed between us,
without demanding one more try.

For some bridges fall, and friendships fade,
and some goodbyes come without a sign.
I shall remember the road that led to you,
and finally accept

I cannot rebuild, that which was never mine.

Penned by my hand on the 18th of Valnuary, in the year 1011 AF.