/ narration of a s e p a r a t i o n /
i hate goodbyes,
because they sound a little bit too tragic.
i hate goodbyes,
because they sometimes give the impression of being dramatic.
i hate goodbyes,
because they hold so much sorrow you'd be drown in your own vain.
i hate goodbyes,
because they force me not to hope to ever see you again.
i hate goodbyes,
because they don't cover up all of our why's.
i hate goodbyes,
because they seem to latch on one of our eyes.
i hate goodbyes,
because they can make up a reason to let out those cries.
i hate goodbyes,
because they break you from the inside but put on a mask on making you wise.
i hate goodbyes,
because they constantly remind me of not forgetting your face.
i hate goodbyes,
because they failed to let me let you go and so my feeling flies.
i hate goodbyes,
because they are broken truths disguised as some sweet lies.
i hate goodbyes,
because there's no guarantee of not feeling my heartbeat dies.
i hate goodbyes,
because in a repetition you would forget what they really mean and—
in a repetition you would forget how they really feel and—
in a repetition you would find my name, and—
in a repetition you would find your name, and—
in a repetition you would find our name, and—
in a repetition you would find it hard—
to breathe.
to remember.
to love.
and so i hate goodbyes.
because it let me think that—
i thought you were my home, but—
apparently not.
but goodbyes teach me something,
that you can't own anything;
a feeling,
a breathing,
a nothing,
but a moment that refused to be fading.
and goodbyes teach me something that;
maybe it's not about saying the separation.
maybe it's not about missing the other person.
maybe it's not about finding another option.
but it's about realising that at one time—
we were together and that what really matters.
and i know i shouldn't hate goodbyes,
you shouldn't hate it too,
because they are supposed to be the beginning of a new 'hi'.
—g.c