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Part 3 - H

07 April 2025

"The Last Goodbye (Love Like Wounds)"
You were the kind of love
they write tragedies about.
A wild, aching secret
I kept buried beneath my ribs,
like a song I wasn’t allowed to sing—
but did, anyway.
I loved you
with every shattered part of me.
With hands that never stopped trembling.
With a heart that kept returning to your fire,
even when it knew
I’d be left in ashes.

You were the silence
after the scream.

The hush of pain
disguised as comfort.
The wound that cut deep
so deep—
but never stayed.

You hurt me
in ways I still don’t have names for.
Left traces of yourself in my skin
like bruises shaped like promises.
And still,
I loved you.
Like I didn’t know better.
Like I didn’t know how not to.
You touched me
and the world disappeared.

Not in light—
but in shadow.

And I swore it was beautiful
because I couldn’t bear to call it what it was:

lonely.

Hollow.

Dangerous.

I miss you
like an addict misses the ache.
Like a ghost misses the body it once haunted.
I miss you in that quiet, trembling way
people miss what destroyed them.
And oh—
how I remember
your crimson red kiss.

Forbidden.

Fierce.

A sacred wound I kept reopening.
It tasted like surrender,
like sorrow,
like the end of the world
wrapped in silk.
I wore your love like a secret—
and bled for it in silence.
I still wake up
with your name caught between my teeth.
Still feel the phantom of you
in every breath I take.
Still ache for the way
you made even pain feel like intimacy.
But love
should not be something
I survive.

It should not ask me
to trade myself in pieces
just to be held.

You were my forbidden.
My undoing.

The ache that sang lullabies
in a language only I could understand.
But I can’t do it anymore.
I can’t keep kissing knives
and calling it devotion.
I can’t keep breaking just to feel something.
This—
this is my goodbye.
Not soft.
Not easy.
But final.
Because I may still grieve you—
may still wake up
missing the way you held my chaos—
but I will not go back.

I deserve mornings
that don’t start with aching.

Hands that touch me without burning.
Love that doesn’t leave me
emptier than before.

I still carry your name in my bones,
but it no longer commands me.
I still dream of you—
but I no longer beg the dream to stay.
I loved you
with everything I had.
And now I let you go
with everything I’ve become.
You were never forever.
You were a wound that taught me
what healing could feel like.

This is my last goodbye.
Not a whisper—
a promise.

Because I once let you carve yourself into me—
but now,
I reclaim the space.
And that—
that is the most beautiful thing
I have ever done.
My healing journey over the years. It's very long but trust me. It is worth it.
This is Part 3 of the Forbidden Love Series.
The title of the poem is The Last Goodbye (Love Like Wounds). This is the last poem of the Series
Archer Mar 25
There’s thousands of words published
On this site
Ev’ry day
None of us are Shakespeare
As we’re all great
In our own ways

The “thumbs up”s and “heart”s aren’t a
Reflection
Of who you are
So, keep writing Hello Poetry!
And fill our small world
With more stars
Khoisan Mar 18
I
can feel the darkness
encrouch upon my loveness
toward
the
lightness
my mind wonders off
as
in a dream
I
speak to you as I think of us.
In
my reality
I
want to take you
there
simply turn on the light
if you think
this is
a
nightmare
.
Look upon light as overwhelming darkness
.
Gideon Mar 7
It’s time to begin something new.
Something small that never grew.
It’s time to bury something old.
A long story far overtold.
Gideon Mar 7
Uphill battles may be ahead,
but they are also behind us.
Do not follow Sisyphus’s footsteps.
Reach your goals and be complete.
Gideon Mar 7
Profundity is found
in the simple, everyday
occurrences that our
human brains apply
immense meaning to.
Reece Mar 4
I hold onto a rope,
Though I don’t know where it goes,
But I’ll keep on holding tightly,
Since I fear what lies below.
Somedays it’s hard to hold onto hope,
Somedays I wish I’d just let go,
But I won’t,
I won’t.
I’ll climb out of the hole,
That my friend dug to bury me,
With her resentment,
And discontentment.
I won’t let her pain be my end,
Like it nearly was for her.
On those dark days,
When there’s so much unknown,
The one thing,
That’ll stay the same,
Is my hope.
I will make it to brighter days!
Sometimes, it's hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I assure you, it's always there.
Daniel Tucker Jan 2017
When it seems as though
The human coil is unravelling
And we have peaked
Our REM of creativity
And we seem awash
In half-baked positive negativity
And the whole world seems
To be drowning in self-induced sleep
While even the watchers
Seem to have both eyes closed...

Turn this thing around
And open bloodshot eyes.
Stop your own unravelling
And delve deeper into creativity.
Strengthen the bonds
Of your own exclusive and non-exclusive spheres.
Allow your peaceful world to dawn
Even though the outside world drowns
In its own exclusive and non-exclusive pool of fears.
© 2017 Daniel I. Tucker

Salvaging and maintaining what we can in devastating storms of life, and to never stop growing and caring or trying to care for others who are in their own little worlds.

REM (rapid eye movement):
The phase of sleep in which most dreams occur. During rapid eye movement sleep, a person's brain activity, breathing, heart rate, and blood pressure increase, and the eyes move rapidly while closed.
Used as a metaphor in this poem.

"Watchers" in this poem does not refer to angels as in the biblical context. "watchers" generally refers to individuals who actively monitor or observe something, often with the intent to protect, detect changes, or report on specific activities.
I'm (not) stupid,
I am (not) a fool,
I'm (not) only useful to you,
I'll never (not) be useful to anyone.
When negative thoughts come, add a (not) in front of the statement.
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