He mentioned about our glass bridge. The bridge that brought us together as a couple, that held our love intact the whole time. He brought up his will of rebuilding that connection once again. Doesn't he realize it was not just the glass bridge that was torn down, fractured into sharp little splinters? It was also me. I was there on the bridge holding on tight to what I still could hold on to, eventhough he was no longer there.
Up there was I. Up when I should have run down and save myself before it shattered. Now that it has, I am at the moment occupied in taking care of my wounds, healing them with the herbs of father time. I do not have the needed strength to hold the bridge together again, nor to glue the colorful fractions into one; not anymore. I am drained, dehydrated. He sucked everything that was in me. I am using my final strength and last breath only for my own well being. Only.
We were two people brought together by a glass bridge. You should have spoken softly, trodden lightly.
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