You build bridges just to burn them red like autumn leaves in the rearview. I fell for the girl who whispered I know places we can hide, but every time it got real you lit the match and ran, then reached out from a burner like a ghost expecting me to keep rebuilding alone.
I am not afraid to bury the hatchet. I have reached out more than once only to get strung along on invisible strings while you date others and dissociate into safer shadows. Fear runs you hard. I see it.
But heres the truth.. You are the Archer who keeps drawing back. I will meet you in the middle if you step forward with your real voice. No more ghosts. No more running. No more making me chase through the smoke you created.
Come correct or let the bridge stay ashes. I still cherish the real you underneath the fear, but even wild hearts get tired of singing this is me trying while you rewrite the ending from the far shore.
Your move, counselor. The clock is ticking like a song we both know all too well.
-(the man still stupid enough to show up with fresh lumber)