Good-byes bid one by one, like a row of candles
Glowing, but flickering with the most temporary relief.
The disbelief, a pathetic excuse to suffice as justification
Prove me wrong, but offer no reason or explanation,
Only lies.
Harbingers are callow cries
Marked by the change of season
Or waning of the moon,
Take your pick,
Pick the scabs
That flake away,
Like the broken air vents scratching your room
Noiselessly.
Blame the airwaves for failure,
Fail to deliver an honest example, a sample
Of blood you donated to a lost cause,
A ship without a sailor
Headed for a vacuum in the wrathful waters, bubbling blue.  
Your blue
Crystalline eyes that spoke emotionlessly,
Evoking commitment devotionlessly.
My intention, apparent and there
Your attention limited to a direct, directionless stare.
A washed out jacket smelled of sweet dry sands
Concealed your regret, a heart held weak with grainy hands,
Like the hands of a clock
Or an hour glass, releasing a last tock
Before the neglected and battered boat
Caught glimpse of the welcoming flock
Of seagulls
Lounging lazily upon a desolate dock,
Waiting for the incoming tide
Relying on your "sick and pale"
Grieving orbital
That refuses to abide
By the laws of science, set
So stubbornly,
Setting itself for denial,
Demands that will never again be met,
A decision thought out without precision,
Finality embodied through
Hands waving away.
Those cleansing waves indicating disarray...
Or perhaps welcoming the sun's promising rays.