Eventually, we’ll withdraw from
each other,
distance will drive a ridge
between us and no amount of
bridges can bring back what’s lost,
for what’s lost remains lost,
the traces of our presence will
fade,
there will be faint reminders when
we walk past the coffee shops we’ve
been to
or the places we’ve watched distasteful
movies at,
the aroma of freshly-baked bread or morning coffee
will be replaced with pungent odours of
sulphur and past,
and eventually, someday, we’ll lose
each other,
we’ll drift apart,
just like the clouds do before
a clear sky.