Sliced Ropes

#sept2prompt

”We cross the bridges as we come to them and burn them behind us, with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of the smell of smoke, and the presumption that once our eyes watered"

- Tom Stoppard

𝔖𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔰

We cross the bridges as we come to them and burn them behind us,

Smoke wafts into my eyes.

With nothing to prove of my pain besides the ashes of the bridge we burned together.

with nothing to show for our progress except a memory of smoke,

Hot orange flames take me by surprise.

The black foam-like substance that emits from it.

That, that there, it fills my lungs.

and the presumption that our eyes once watered.

Tears leave stains on my cheeks.

Hurriedly, I rub them away.

But in the story I tell, they're said to be there.