i won't mean it.
i don't mean goodbye ... i mean i love you, i mean i miss you, i mean come back to me.
i can't mean goodbye and the frantic days that come with it. there was a moment that i thought about saying it, out loud and for good ... for something. that moment laid there and thrashed in front of me as i squeezed my eyes shut. my mouth opened and a tiny noise came out, but i couldn't say goodbye, even staring directly into your grave, even dropping one last cigarette for you, even placing that white lily next to the star of david. i could only sing our song softly and bow my head. watching them lower the casket, tears screaming down my face, i couldn't mutter that word because i didn't mean it, believe it, choose it.
there was a moment i tried to say goodbye as i was holding your hand, telling you quietly about the day we met, watching your mother watch me as i kissed your hand, forehead, lips after you'd gone. i could have stayed forever in that hospital room if it meant that i'd never have to say that word. all i could say was "my bean, i love you, and i'll see you in dreams."
nights spent curled in the corner of my bed, hands wrapped around the shirt that i gave you, our cat purring in the crook of my knees, my screaming echoing off walls that used to be bare ... i tried to say goodbye because all hope had been stolen from me. all the love i had died in that room. i'm trying to say goodbye, but i don't mean it.
holding my best friend in these arms that hang from me with some hidden purpose, there is space between us. in that small space, that air, there is goodbye. climbing into my roommate's bed, half asleep and crying, my head hits the pillow with a sound i couldn't describe. in that sound, there is goodbye. my paintbrush touches these colors in front of me, and there are small reflections of light that come out in red. in that red, there is nothing more than goodbye, but i can't say a word.
