The Chorus and the Bridge

photo credit: photorator

The clock ticks ha, ha, ha, ha never ending in my ear.

The swift wind blows in and sweeps it all under the rug, but I step there and feel it uneven under the arch of my foot, under the soul of my heart.

There are years there of relationship unknown, unexplored, unwanted.

And still it rings silent in my head.

Sometimes I look around to see if anyone else hears the sound, but it’s white noise in their world full of brokenness.

I wonder if I will ever know silence and I wonder if I will ever stop wondering.

Sometimes the fear grips me and I worry that I will see him just around the next bend.

Sometimes it’s the sadness that falls on my shoulders and I worry that I’ll never lift my head.

Usually, the truth settles into a place deep in my hear that makes my jaw tingle and my eyes fill before a quick shake of the head clears the cobwebs of yesterday.

Sometimes even blood stops flowing and bridges are not so much burned as they are left unkempt.

If you leave something in the elements for long enough, there’s no going back.

And now the reality of yesterday and tomorrow pull at my heart as the clock continues to tick, reminding me that I’m further from where I was and closer to I don’t know where.

Sometimes a broken yesterday seems safer than an unknown tomorrow.

Sometimes walking away isn’t a one-time occurrence, but more of a cd on skip whenever it hits a certain place in the chorus.

And as the chorus comes round again in my heart, I remember why I walked away.

Sometimes you walk away because there is nothing left to stand on.

Sometimes you walk away because you were only passing through.

And every once in a while you walk away because the right thing isn’t always the easy thing.

And you wait for the chorus to come round again.


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