I should be used to this by now--

I've been left so many times
in the past,
it's no wonder that
my right hand is inferior.

I never liked Goodbyes;
I'm more of a
"see ya later"
type of person,
because it holds the
(empty) promise
of future reunion.

"Goodbye" is foreign
on my tongue. I've
said it my
fair share of times,
each one being
harder than the last.

This Goodbye will be
the most difficult of them all, which
is why I cannot will myself
to say it;
to have those
two dreaded syllables
leave my lips
and enter the air,
making your departure
from my life
real.

I don't want you to go,
but I know that
I'm weighing you down
instead of boosting you up;
holding you back
instead of pushing you forward.

So here we are, and
I'm about to say it, and
the word is living in the back of my throat and
about to exit my mouth and--

I stop.

And "see ya later" comes out instead.

Because I'm not ready
to give you up just yet.