goodbye poems

12

somewhere under this skin is

blood, shushing away,

making its way to the heart.

where it begins.

and branching, curling through

the tissue, bones. all the way to the fingertips.

to the little forgotten places in the body.

(even those places haven't forgotten)

it's alive, still.

somehow.

somewhere under this mask is

hope, spiraling away,

making its way to the heart.

where it begins.

and crackling, vibrating through

the tissue, bones. all the way to the fingertips.

to the closed, dark places that don't remember.

(and then they start to remember)

it's alive, still.

somehow.

did i intend to write you goodbye

poems?

did i think i'd think about you

in every breath?

no.

and there's the blood spilled. did it to myself.

and there's the hope somehow. keeps me hurting. keeps me hunting. keeps me sane.

keeps me alive, still, somehow.