he spoke of the bridge in the distance

he spoke of the bridge in the distance, as if it were some irreplaceable monument to all loneliness. eyes fogged by the very thought of the freedom to be found in separation. i could divide every hope and spoon feed his tired mouth, and still he lacks in better judgment. [but, then who am i to say who’s who in all the noise.] barking at every chance to finally see what has been staged in front of him since time stopped and birthed the most beautiful soul spun from ashes.

 

we cannot find ourselves in the presence of one’s warmth, nor can happiness choose not to choose us. the easiest choice to follow is life. no longer should i take for granted the very breath so unpromised. but should i try and fail, i will choose to crawl until my arms flail in weakness, and i am forced to stand tall.

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