What We Don’t Say When We Say Goodbye

We say “goodbye” like it’s clean —

like it has an edge,

a beginning and an end.

But in truth,

it’s just the last word we let escape

before everything else gets swallowed.

We don’t say: I wish I’d stayed longer.

We don’t say: You mattered more than I let show.

We don’t say: I was scared to need you too much,

or I hoped you’d stop me from leaving.

Goodbyes are full of ghosts —

the words we folded into silence,

the truths we tucked behind a smile

so we wouldn’t drown in the weight of them.

Sometimes, we even lie to ourselves

and call it closure.

But long after the door closes,

after the train pulls away,

after the screen goes dark —

those unsaid things echo.

They follow us.

Quietly.

Always just behind.