The Bridge Between Us

We stood on opposite ends of that old wooden bridge near Oak Creek, the same bridge where we'd shared our first kiss three summers ago. The water below rushed by, indifferent to the weight of the silence between us. You were leaving for a job across the country, and I was staying because my mother needed me. We both knew love wasn't enough this time. 'I'll write,' you said. But we both knew you wouldn't. I watched you walk away until you became a speck, then nothing. The bridge still stands. We don't.