Handwritten Letters from A Marionette

Our Bridge

He wasn't there to catch me,

I fell and drowned in the river.

Stole my heart and rescued me,

As you're a thief and a swimmer.

Your courageous confession

Smashed the walls within my soul.

We then built our bridge made of iron,

So strong and I thought we had it all.

But time passed and summer came,

The bridge turned scorching hot.

You stopped using it and sought fame,

You took an alternative bridge that meant to be not.

I left our bridge with rage and worry,

But you grabbed my arm and said:

"I left the other one and I'm sorry,

Let's continue with the bridge we've made."

I reluctantly agreed,

The bridge of iron turned wood,

Plants of love grew out of their seed,

Although at times you had a violent mood.

Then winter came, it grew cold.

Our bridge became a sculpture.

I used fire to thaw it, while you scold.

You cared or not, I was unsure.

The burden was supposed to be our share,

But you used a hammer and smashed it.

My tears whispered it wasn't fair

As I picked the frozen bit that was now into little bit.

I plunged into the river again,

But this time, you weren't there.

I saved myself. No rescue, no boatmen.

Still hurt by the pieces we failed to repair.

You appeared yet so sudden,

Said you wanted to build a bridge of "Just a friend".

I refused your offer but then,

I thought it was a way for us to mend.

But my scarred heart always had you.

You tricked me into thinking you still cared,

But you harshly said the word "shoo"

On the day St. Valentine was dead.

Seeing the scars of my scorched hands,

I lit a match and set our bridge on fire,

I realised that we can't even be friends,

The pain you were giving me was not what I desire.

You put the flames out but it was futile,

I danced on the ashes of our burnt bridge,

Remembering your words of brutal,

The phrase "no chance" making me cringe.

I grew wings and flew away with a sad smile,

Rising above the smoke of the flame.

But sometimes I look back in a while,

Hoping you realised that you had lost the game.

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A/N: This poem was the first poem I've ever created. I think I've created it back in 2011? Hope you'd like it.