Standing on the other side, matches in one hand, petrol in the other; I’m done.
I’m done with being second and third best; I’m done with being taken for granted; I’m done with the lies; I’m done with you. I want this bridge to burn, I want this over, I want you to feel this pain too.
So I strike the match and turn to set it all ablaze, but when I do I see you stood there. That face; those eyes; that look and I feel it all over again. All the good, all the love, all the kindness, and I can’t. I’m not quite done. Not just yet.
The thing is I’m not sure I’ll ever be done with you. So instead I just stand there looking over the bridge at you. You’re looking at me you don’t notice the pain, the hurt or devastation you’ve caused, you have no idea.
And just like that the match goes out and I walk back over to you.