The last time I saw you,
I thought
we were standing
in the middle of our story.
I didn’t know
we were already
at the final page.
Some goodbyes
never announce themselves.
They simply become
the last time.
A poetry library for the things that bruise us, the things that bloom anyway, and everything we become in between.
The last time I saw you,
I thought
we were standing
in the middle of our story.
I didn’t know
we were already
at the final page.
Some goodbyes
never announce themselves.
They simply become
the last time.
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