if this reads like goodbye
it’s because i wrote it
from the edge of a night
that almost convinced me i was finished
i tried to make it clean
timed, final, beautiful in the most tragic way
but pain has terrible handwriting
and grief never knows when to end a sentence
so every line kept breaking
into another thought
another memory
another reason i was still here
long enough to keep writing
maybe that’s the cruel miracle of it
the timing was always untimely
the ending always arrived too soon
or maybe never at all
so if you’re holding this poem
know it was almost a note
until the page reminded me
unfinished is still alive