Goodbye Doesn’t Need to Be an Ending

Poetry

Photo by Arnaud Mesureur on Unsplash

I left you at the shore of long ago,

each moment a breath of time

compared to all the years

where you populated my senses.

The little boat I made you,

a candle lit in the center,

floated out beyond my reach —

as if it were you drifting away

to a place I could no longer touch.

The wind cooled my senses

while the tears ran dry

because you were gone and

there was no point in crying.

You would have laughed

that hearty chuckle of yours

and told me to keep my tears

for a day I’d need them most.

You hadn’t believed in anything

but the strength of yourself,

telling me there was no fight

that would beat you down.

“Losing isn’t my style” —

those words a mantra

you always took with you.

But now here I stand