Burning Bridges

I'm burning my bridges tonight.
But I feel no sense of loss, no grief
though fine bridges they were once, painted with gold
mined with delicacy from the depths of my heart,
swathed with railings of the softest, silken thread
of my boldest, most delicate dreams.

But shed no tears for me on this night,
extinguish none of these flames
for I long to hear the splintering of wood,
the finality of bitterly happy endings rend
the air, long to choke on the smoke
that ascends above each dying lost cause
like a blind, wingless angel.
Let me watch them disappear, become
but impotent fragments of the
chill, merciless night air
as if they were never there at all.

I care not if the smoke gets in my eyes,
if tragedy's transparent lover forces them to cry.
I will hurt not if the sparks fly and pierce my
thick, succumbing skin.
Let the flames lap at my ankles as I stand before
the ash and the abyss.
I care not if I get burned, so long as I can promise
myself this:
That I shall look to the other side on unforgiving nights
like this, shall glimpse you waiting there, but
through the mist that refuses to clear
the distance and the smoke that veil you ,
so each and every day, I forget more of your face.
As I stand, lit by the smoldering glow of my burning bridges,
I will know that never again will I see your face
safely, I shall gaze across the chasm to where you
crumple like paper crackling at the heart of a fire
so everyone may know now mine is pure and yours is
fake and flat and artificial and insincere
lopsided as if poorly cut out of red construction paper
not that it matters, as long as our hearts
never again converse in rapid clashing rhythms
and in the silence, I can tell myself that yours has stopped

But I wish not for you to burn or to fall,
No, all I wish is for you to go. Far, far away,
gone where you cannot reach me,
gone as if you were never there at all.

I'm burning my bridges tonight
but feel no sense of loss.
I'm burning my bridges
so ne'er again may you cross.