When their soul has faded away into plumes of smoke and your hand clenches nothing but rotting memories, you face a kind of death that only happens to the living.
Your body continues to work feverishly, promising that you’ll be able to walk soon, never telling you that some days you’ll refuse to get out of bed.
Some days you’ll see them in the faces of strangers, and you’ll muster up a small smile as your stomach clenches up, knowing that you’ll soon be digesting the ‘hello’s’ you swallowed back every single time.
Mostly, you’ll have good days. But that won’t start for a while. There will be days where memories flood the insides of your eyelids, and going to sleep feels like waking up to a universe where everything is still okay.
But when you truly realize that they’re gone, that they vanished, that their hands will no longer be so warm, that their presence in your life is nothing more than your head making up for absence,
I think you’ll be devastated.
I know you will be.
Because the concept that holds up the word ‘gone’ is undefinable and rests on my tongue like bitter medicine I defiantly refuse to swallow.
So when you realize that they’re just gone, the medicine will sit on your tongue until it burns.
And you’ll figure out that you never really said goodbye.
You never wanted to.
Because goodbye meant gone.
But Goodbye never began with ends.
Goodbye always began with beginnings.
Goodbye is the start of eras.
Goodbye is the way you stop dying in their absence, and start living in your presence.
Goodbye is the way you start to finally recover.
Goodbye is the way I wrote this poem, just to finally tell you;
Goodbye.
Goodbye. |(Morsus Engel)| (via actuates)