goodbye

even as i look down at your casket

being lowered into the damp earth

that cascades over where you rest

i can still feel you here with me

the air is frigid and crisp

tearing the breath from my lungs

but it's almost like

you're standing right next to me

if i were to gaze up at the stars

freckling across the vast sky

i would swear that one of them

could maybe be you

and as they shed their light

illuminating the forlorn burial

my salvation is the words

that died upon your lips

who said this is goodbye?

Challenge

who said it was goodbye?

thisisit

65 reads

It’s never goodbye

There’s an image online. There’s a quote on it over a blurry picture; it goes something like:

I took seventeen shots of vodka to forget your name but the only name I forgot was mine and drunk or not you’re the only thing on my mind.

The night I blocked Everett on my phone was the same night I realized how easily he could give me up. That he already had.

“I hope this isn’t goodbye forever,” he texted. With a frown, something like: ”:(”

Something easy, insincere. Just like me, our relationship.

Blocked.

But it isn’t really goodbye.

It’s a temporary one, like being temporarily out of vodka.

Challenge

who said it was goodbye?

marks11

23 reads

Goodbye

It burns. It tears me apart. Giving me no room to even breathe. It has been years, but I never got over it. She died. It is so horrible to even think about. He moved on. It rips me apart just thinking about it. They left without even saying goodbye. But is it? Is it really goodbye? Or is it just a space in time not spent with them? So ask yourself. Is it really goodbye?

Challenge

who said it was goodbye?

AJAY9979

20 reads

Update

You're a banshee, sitting on my chest and screaming in my face in my dreams. No goodbye was said but I wish it had been as everything would hurt less if it was. The months that come through, reminding me of what you said you had to do when. I wish I could cut the veins that attach me to you as easily as you can disappear in the blink of an eye. May 1st. I hope you're studying for your exam. That's the stupid part of my brain that refuses to stop caring about you talking. That's the part that has control of my fingers and is making me write to you.

Steve and I would like to clarify that this is not an attack or even an angry Dear John letter. It's mainly a sadness fueled second narrated in writing of what I'm thinking and how I'm feeling. Sad. Abandoned. Hurt. Upset. I want to bite my tongue until it bleeds every time I try to talk about you. Pancakes make me sad. The smell of whiskey breaks my heart. I stay away from both rather successfully, but still when the neighbors are outside drinking or when I come down to see the remnants of my mother's cooking, I think of you. I guess this is just a long winded update that I haven't forgotten you. I'm sorry.