you and I stand on opposite ends
of the same burnt bridge
and I’m not saying
you poured gasoline on it
or struck a match
but a careless cigarette butt is
just as dangerous
when you flick it out the window
onto the dry grass
and you never looked back to see it
burning
and here we are
smoke gone
ashes scattered by the wind and seasons
and this
is what’s left
a reckless river full of rocks
and the bones of our friendship
somewhere at the bottom
this is what’s left [poem]
Larissa Lee 