The Night before it carried us away

It was at the bar,

the usual gin in hand, a Manhattan in hers.

A sip to the mouth before she spoke

Why do you wish for everything to be so tragic?

A sigh in my breath before I sipped to my drink; perceptions

What you see as a tragedy, is simply poetic to me

We often carry burdens that don’t quite belong to us.

Whilst doing that we say things that end up burning bridges.

Sometimes bridges are burnt faster than they're built.

And sometimes bridges are burnt even before they’ve been built.

These broken bridges build walls between two. And that’s why sometimes I think

some things are just better off being left unsaid. Sometimes what's unsaid

is meant to be understood by itself.

What if they’re not? What if they’re not understood by themselves?

Well that’s beauty of it, it’s just going to become a story for another day.

Another sip to the mouth, and she’s got a warm smile behind the glass.

I match the gin to that as the night carried us away.