Three evenings ago,
I blasted my music so sharply
that my melancholy heart
began beating to the rhythm of that old song
I used to play when I was trying to forget about you.

This is the second goodbye.

The first goodbye,
there were whirlpools in my heart and
tsunamis in my eyes.
My words were barbed with unexpected truths
that grazed deeply,
don’t worry your words in response required
medical assistance after as well.

The first goodbye was displaced by a deafening silence
that forced me to write so that
I would be comforted by listening to my pen slide
along the paper or my fingertips
skate along the keyboard.

The whirlpools in my heart and
tsunamis in my eyes brought you waves
three months later
but by then I no longer desired noise to help
cover up the excruciating silence for I
was finally sleeping peacefully at night.

Three months later you acted
as if I was a lighthouse and you
were a sailor longing for the shore because
the waves you felt were too strong,
as if I could and would help guide you out of this.
You sent me messages hoping I would give
the signal to bring you back,
but let me repeat myself,
you weren’t longing for me, you were longing for the shore.
You were searching for guidance
that would then bring you to safety and then
once everything was sound and safe,
you would abandon the shore and
discover the roads that people drive on and forget their way back.

Time in one way or another had shortened the distance between us.

But now this is the second goodbye.

The sun is shining, the air is warm and flowers are blooming.
This may not be rambunctious and crushing like the previous tsunamis and whirlpools but do know,
it’s as constant as the waves crashing on to the shore,
day after day after day.
The waterline being recreated wave after wave
acting as a quiet banner that reads:

“I’ve made it this far without you and
I’ll do it again and again and again.”