across the bridge
 
 
november waits for your decision
 
and I wake to a morning that has
already shed its tears
for what it knows
and I do not —
 
and here I am
on this side of things
full of words
and bravado
 
 
as one, solitary
 
broken off from the tree
 
 
…
 
 
across the bridge
there sits a dessicated heart
 
about
 
to be
 
 
blown away