Goodbye is permanent.
It is the last page of a book,
The closing of the curtain,
No encore.

Apologies are misunderstood
There’s no need to be sorry,
they say.
But there is.

I should not have been here.
I should leave you alone.
I should leave.
I should go.

I’m sorry to hurt you —
I’ve done my best.
But I can’t do this.
I’m burning.

Let me cremate
And watch my ashes blow in the wind.
For the first time,
I’m free.

All parts of me,
free to blow in the wind
And breathe.
There are no thoughts

Goodbye is permanent
But it is freedom.
And I will scatter to the ground
And be part of the Earth

And for once I will be beautiful
And I will grow like a dandelion.
And a child will pull me from my roots
And I will grant their wish.

A wish for a good day
For a good night
For good.
And they will never say goodbye.



Wasn’t it Walt Whitman who said that the grass is like the beautiful uncut hair of graves?


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