He's leaving today.
Leaving today.
And all the memories
come flooding back
and all the reasons
fight to be the one.
He's leaving today.
Leaving today.
And the mind begins
the big debate:
It's not my fault.
It's all my fault.
He's leaving today.
Leaving today.
And the part in you
that loves hopes he'll
be happy. And the part
that hates does not.
He's leaving today.
Leaving today.
And the hole opens up
as he steps out the door.
And already, you look for
new ways to fill it, knowing
how big that hole can get
when the loved has left.
The little death.
The little death.
No body in the hole
to mourn. No urn,
no prayers, no ashes.
The leap of faith
in what is left.
The rest of what
was left to be.
1 comment:
Stunning final stanza. I'm very impressed with the seeming ease? with which you make this both personal and universal.
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