A goodbye, broken

A free-written poem about a journey through a final goodbye to a loved one, as part of a Grand Guignol suite of monologues in poetic and free verse ‘Cabaret of Confessions’
Published on Spillwords in 2016

As she gazes into her eyes can she see the pain,
Will she see the shadows, will she see the shame,
She can see the love, she can see the light,
She can feel the pull, feel her chest coiled tight,
She hopes her heart won’t break as she tears away,
Will she hear it crack and feel her fingertips stray,
As they grasp onto the moment that’s no longer real
As they clutch for hands that can no longer feel.

Lost reaches — brush nothing, her heart begins to flake
Her soul hopes for sleep and the longing lays awake.
Would she really be missed, her mind starts to break
To feel like she belongs, what would it take…

Love like thunder, as light and as fickle as the promises now unspoken.

 Love like dew drops, as weighted, as constant as the dream now woken.
Goodbye, like sobs as silent as the grave, a Goodbye that can’t be spoken.
Goodbye, like confessions as cutting as the guilt, a Goodbye from a lone-woman, broken…

As she holds onto her face can she say goodbye,
Will she have the courage to at least let the healing try,
She can see the life, that they could have had,
She can feel the surge of the times she was glad,
She hears her heart break as she’s steered to leave,
She’s blind from the tears yet her thoughts can’t grieve,
As they grasp onto the moment that’s no longer there,
As they clutch the air for a heart that can’t care.

Lost screams touch no one… her heart begins to flake.

Her silence takes her seat and her guilt lays awake.
What’s beyond this world? Her mind starts to break.

To feel love again –
— what would it take…

Love like thunder.
As light and as fickle as the promises.
Now unspoken.

To feel the blade — the poison — the twist of a rope…
what would it take…
Love like dew drops, as weighted, as constant as the dream now woken.

A Woman, with a river as silent as the grave, and a desire for death that can’t be spoken.

A Woman, with confessions, cutting out the guilt…
…a Goodbye from a scattered heart — the shards now woken…
Without a sound. Without a sob.

A Goodbye, Broken.

Then hope. A flicker, a light
Just enough to get through the next night,
And the next, then the next,
A breath, just a token
All beginning with the Goodbye, Broken.

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