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To Say Goodbye

Goodbye happened gently, Slipping into my overcrowded head While I was sleeping away Troubled dreams that gnawed Incessantly on my brain And refused me relief

By R.C. TaylorPublished 3 years ago 1 min read
To Say Goodbye
Photo by Renee Fisher on Unsplash

Goodbye happened gently,

Slipping into my overcrowded head

While I was sleeping away

Troubled dreams that gnawed

Incessantly on my brain

And refused me relief.

Goodbye happened quietly,

Each time I had to hold your hand

To beg you to stay

My grip lessened

Minutely and minutely

Until there was already an ocean

Between us and you

Wondered where I was

To chase your tailcoats like I always had.

Goodbye happened within me,

With every harsh word

And betrayal

The goodbye grew and grew,

Was nurtured until it squeezed

Through the cracks and overflowed

From the canyons in my heart

Until it became its own pulsating

Rhythm in my chest,

a drumbeat for my feet to move to

In the direction furthest away from you.

Goodbye felt like summer sunshine

warming your face

After years of blustery cold but you overstayed

Your welcome with the sun and blistered and burned

And your sobbing tears did nothing

to soothe the gaping ache

In your life but instead they rubbed salt

in the wound.

And on this chilly, blustery day, July 15th,

I finally said goodbye.

I didn’t say it aloud to you, no,

Because I didn’t want to close the door,

My heart still demanded that I leave it cracked

Just the tiniest sliver

So that if you miraculously decided to grow,

If you overcame the slithering vines that held you fast

And stagnant on the ground,

If you became tall enough to reach it

Without me bending down anymore with arms outstretched,

You would find that you still had a way back home

If you weren’t too late on your journey up.

Goodbye sounded like doors creaking.

I didn’t close the door all the way,

But I cracked it and finally said goodbye.

sad poetry

About the Creator

R.C. Taylor

I write to invoke, to process, to honor, to resurrect, and—sometimes—to grieve but, above all, I write to be free.

Follow along for stories about a little bit of everything (i.e. nostalgia and other affairs of the heart).

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    R.C. TaylorWritten by R.C. Taylor

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