this is not a goodbye,
this is my death, the epitome of my burried-7ft-under-the-ground
naive with both eyes wide ******* open
this, i said, is not a goodbye
this is my war, another version of daily sword cry between my body and the body of my body
both bleeding, both pleading
this, my friend, is never what a goodbye should look like
this is just me, hanging, begging, knocking and crawling,
just another tv show about breaking plates, or lost planes, or abandoned planets
just another boring 195 minutes episode of empty asylums, dry lips, and false alarms
or this is
the paragon of your goodbye,
alongside with my everyday asked question of “so what comes after death?”
or “how many nights was it my mom cried after the divorce?”
or “how do two souls that used to see each other bare drift away with full armor of clothes?”
or how much more do i have to pour, because i have dried all of my words, and metaphor,
there's only so many ways of describing how it feels like to be destroyed
(but this is time for me too to realize that without a goodbye, it's still
you
and me going straight back to
0
or -1
or -100)
i understand so this is your way of saying goodbye ; not even saying it at all
so there was no closure
just me left confused in a never ending roller coaster ride
so this is your way of saying goodbye ; you ******* erased the word 'good' out of it