All bridges were crumbling that day,
too much did they bear of their sway;
just ashes remain of their prime.
Say they, yes, all wounds heal in time.
And if those words too will betray?
Which boundary will they cross tonight,
what hides behind pride in plain sight?
Like glass shards the dreams spread before;
who dares still to tread them once more,
to bleed full of bliss and of blight?
And iron cloaks clouding the mind;
from here is no goal nor a find.
Her eyes are star-crossed, so are mine,
and tomorrow can not realign,
in any shape, nor form, not kind.
