Friday 5 September 2014

The Bridge


Dare she take that walk, the one over the bridge?
Even on a good day, when she wasn’t down or depressed, she felt drawn to the water, looking into its oily, swirling depths.
Today, the anniversary of losing everything she held dear, dare she.
Only one way to tell, kill or cure, she’d walk that way, over the bridge.
One day she wouldn’t arrive on the other side.

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