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And in the end,
try as we might,
it wasn’t the perfect goodbye

although if you would
really think about it,
no goodbye is ever
precisely made;
some threads are stubborn
and hold on longer than others
and the new absence
sustained by your soul
will have rough edges
as well as smooth
and show marks where
force was needed
to complete the process

closure has never been
my best friend, but
if it taught me anything
it is that it is not everything;
we can do without it
and still be beautiful,

and that sometimes
preparing and waiting for the end
is not worth it
and would only hurt
disproportionately,
unnecessarily,
because the mind likes to
play that trick,
focus on what’s missing
instead of what’s there still,
instead of what will
find its way back
given enough time,

and take away from it,
make us feel it’s not enough

so forgive me
if I kept you in the dark;
I’d rather that we keep
living each day
with only the vague awareness
that we don’t have long
but not knowing exactly
when it runs out
and tomorrow won’t come

better for me to
suddenly be far away
lugging around memories
untouched by the grimy hands
of a cruel parting,
and built instead from
the thousand days
that we did have,
when once, we took on the world
side by side, alive
and passionate and in tune
and marching to the cadence
that we’ve long learned
to love in,
oblivious to,
or in spite of,
what’s ahead.
.

pinkknit
.
untitled photo from image bookmarking site Favim

.

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