Goodbye
lingers at the gate,
like smoke after a fire.
Your arms surround me,
warm and safe
but slipping, slipping,
like the last light of dusk
fading into night.
Three thousand miles
is just a number,
until I try to cross it
with a kiss,
a hand outstretched
into air that no longer holds you.
Two years is a long shadow
I'll learn to live inside.
Wading through seasons,
marking days
with text messages,
with phone calls,
with stars we promise
to look at together.
This isn't forever,
just a slow unwinding of now —
a long pause
between heartbeats,
this last unfolding,
becoming
what I'm meant to be.
I won't stop loving you.
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