Goodbye, _____ ______

In the end it was all so poetic it was almost comical.

It feels so funny that this was the only goodbye that really was goodbye, because there were so many times that the word was said and meant nothing. The door was always open. Either the lock was broken or something was stuck between. So many times. I just accepted it, that there would always be a breeze that flows through every now and then that would remind me of you. And yet. I can't believe all it took to finally lock the door was a stroke of bad luck. It somehow doesn't get more romantic than that

And yet even this doesn't feel like goodbye. Even now I feel like you're always just around the corner. I expect to see you every time I'm in the city. It seems like since it hasn't ever happened it just has to one day when I least expect it, and therefore I always expect it. There are a million places that take me to you even though we never went anywhere.

This city is a ghost town of plans we made and never did

There are a million things left to say. There are no more things left to say. Even the weight of "I'm sorry" is nothing in the magnitude of this silence. It feels sacred. I dare not disturb it. Only in places where time is thin, that feel surreal. Where I'm far away, where the threads that connect me to everything but you stretch until I feel disconnected. Only then do I find you where you lay hidden after all this time. You said you'd always pick up.

I believe you always will.

Maybe that's why even now this isn't

Goodbye.