It’s all falling down.
London Bridge,
and all the things you dreamed of,
as you stared across the river at it.
I love you, but I have to go,
because there’s nothing else I can do,
except mourn you in solitude when I eventually arrive on safer shores, of course,
but for now,
all I can do is pull away my fingertips from your grasping, desperate hand,
tear my eyes from the face I’ve stared at for a lifetime and walk away.

I love you, but I have to go,
because you have to die so that I can live,
and I know you’ll never understand why,
but I love you,
more than my departure suggests, and I know this is best,
but something about the way you wail makes it so hard to hang it all up and go.
The sky is aflame,
we swipe the clouds left and right with warm hands,
but you know that I have to go,
don’t you?

I love you, but I have to go.
I love you, but you have to let me go,
and I’d tell you
“No, I won’t forget you”
but the way you cling to what’s left of me shows that you know I will.
I take one last look at your familiar eyes,
your gaze so defeated under the glassy guard of the Thames,
and my hand hurts without you to hold it,
but the world is aflame,
the sun is sleeping on the ground,
and I love you, but I have to go.

I’ll never know if you were crying,
as you slip further under the surface,
but you had to die,
so I could live,
reborn and free of who I was, with you.
I love you, but I have to go.

Maybe one day,
when it all cools down,
you can come back around,
but for now,
I have to rebuild a new girl for us to be.
I love you, and I’ll come back for you, one day.