Between Two Bridges

photo of suspension bridge under cloudy sky
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Between Two Bridges

Like a ghost I haunt these spaces, living here between two bridges.

Boardwalk beneath my feet, sags, cracks.

Been in this space too long, just now I have noticed the grime; jarred awake too late to backtrack my steps.

Spring afternoon, sunlight repeats itself, like me in my weakness.

Trapped, I am between these two bridges.

River moves on, connects endless streams-but, me, I sink back, drown my dreams.

Incapable I am of freeing myself, unable to move on.

Stationary, trapped here like steel girders, the pressure bearing down, pulling me to the bottom.

I look into the currents-the river oblivious to me continue to move.

Trapped, I am between these two bridges.

Like a ghost, I haunt this space, incapable of moving forward.

Like the river.

Jenny W. Andrews Copyright 2019 (Original copyright 2018). All Rights Reserved.

Second Go ‘Round

dirty animal farm farmer
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Second Go’Round: A Tale of Two Marriages

I didn’t love you like I loved him.

(I loved you more).

I didn’t trust you like I had trusted him.

(I trusted you less).

You told me I had a wall around my heart.

(He told me I clung to him too much).

You referred to my first marriage as my first-go-’round, accused me of not loving you as much as I had loved him.

(He told me that he had never loved me).

Alone,  I lean against the rail at Knott’s Berry Farm and watch the painted pigs on the merry-go-round go round and round and I think of the both of you.

 

Copyright, Jenny W. Andrews 2019. All rights reserved.