Goodbyes are not meant to be said.
words such as this should not exist.
Ends are finite, like cancer prognoses or –
the broken glass of your mother’s favorite vase
after we hurl it down the stairs with too much vodka in our veins.
We woke the next morning and realized glue wouldn’t hold it back together.
I half expected her to hold a funeral for its shattered remains.
No matter how many apologies we made,
it never brought the vase back.
Our bones are joined through linked arms and I can’t imagine
what it would be like to lose half of myself,
to see you walking out the door, hands held up in defeat.
I know it’s not easy loving me but no one ever said love was easy.
Really, you’re no prize yourself. Half the time I feel like
I’m drowning in the filth of whatever sort of relationship we call this
but I wouldn’t give you up for all the goodbyes in the world,
If I were to die speechless at least I’d wouldn't have to worry about people crying because you'd be there to carry on my voice.
See we’re not supposed to say goodbye, only farewell for now
because even if we were both in horrible car crashes that resulted in comas
We would still be connected by the same air in our lungs,
the same sun on our faces.
Because there’s more to this world than being present all the time,
there are dreams and things that might make no sense to you but believe me
they’re true. I can be sure that I’ll always be near you even if we’re half a continent away.
I don’t have to be with you 24-7 to know how much I never want to say those words.
So I won’t because this isn’t terminal.
It just needs some resuscitation. I’ve never said goodbye even to those
dying right in front of me, even those souls that have molded me with loving hands.
And yeah, it hurts when things end but if you say goodbye
you’re tempting fate-there’s a way to say that goodbye finalizes life-
it separates the dead from the living in a way that just isn’t right
because we’ll end up together again.
I’m not going to let us die. We don’t even need glue.
I won’t say goodbye when we’re eighty years old and you want to let go because
when you do, I’ll still be there, connected to you, even if we’re on different planes.
I’ll still talk to you, remind of the things we used to do when we
were young and stupid. I’ll never say sorry for keeping you close
because if I let you fall I can’t replace you.
You’re not going to be my vase.
This bump in the road isn’t as bad as it seems.
Remember all of this. Don’t let the morphine get you down.
This won’t be goodbye. I'll see you again soon.
