River


River,
it runs.
Runs past,
through,
everything.
The river runs past the mistakes.
Accidentally done on purpose.
Past your words that snake around my neck,
choking me.
Emptying,
me.
Running, running, running.
The River is,
tranquil.
With the calming current of apologies kissing away,
every bruise.
The River soars over the branches that fall from trees.
Each and every one,
breaking you.
The River gets rough.
The rapids drown out the screams,
filling your lungs with whitewater.
Finishing the job.
But the River,
runs.

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