You texted me
that you wanted
to say goodbye.

Yet, I’ve been
saying goodbye
to you for the
past 21 days.

At night when
I’m alone and
can’t sleep.
When I wake up
and remember again.
Whenever anyone
asks about you.
When moving out
of my room because
it was built for two
and just reminds me of you.
When I’ve had
a good day and
want someone to
share it with.

We spent 17
hours saying goodbye.
We sat in my room
with an elephant
until there wasn’t
enough room so we
walked  on eggshells
around the lake,
played at the park
with clouds over our
heads watching lightening
dance in the distance.
Went to the pub and
cheered to a year full
of great memories.



After all of that
I still have to
say goodbye
to you.

I have to go
to all the places
we’ve made memories,
taking the paths
we took
like pushing
the ancestor
rock down
a mountain.

For 45 days
I couldn’t stop
saying goodbye
to you until you
said it to me.

Instead of living
in your goodbye,
I can live for
someone else’s
hello or mine
every night to
the moon.