bloodied and bruised.
we stopped fighting
for a moment and went
out for a walk.
it was a sunless day in march.
we knew the end was near,
but the right words had not
been said, just the wrong ones.
all the evidence was in.
the jury, the judge.
we were just waiting
on the verdict.
the walk meant nothing
but a stretching
of our legs. fresh air
in our lungs.
no hands were held.
no tender moments stopping
to kiss on any bridge.
they had all been
crossed and burned
a long time ago.
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