Goodbye

I see myself as the feeble memory

Holding on to its fading image somewhere cradling within the geometry of his winsome brown eyes

When he is staring back at me;

And oblivious to the slow evanescence of every picture he has of me at the back of his head; 

He still leans in to kiss me.

Whether if it was us holding hands tumbling on the edge of reality and daze in one of those rusty traffic days on the streets of our city,

And I still remember how the headlights of each of those cars looked like they were synchronized to the harmony of a rave;

Or if it was me brushing his hair off the sides of his forehead 

That kept falling in the way of our gaze,

Or his head resting upon my heaving chest as I for one couldn't understand why it felt so tranquil yet the trembling of my beating chest made it so hard for me to breathe.

What was once so warm and burning will soon turn into ashes,

And I will succumb to become nothing again but just a fragment of his past that sometimes flashes in with a familiar smell or a place where we laughed for hours over how I spilled my coffee all over his white t-shirt, painting a memory that was ought to last.

I have been waiting for the day when I will be aching for his voice to tell me that everything is going to be well and fair again,

And while I weep in his longings in a suit of melancholic midnights,

As I would eventually have to probe inside the gutters of heaviness inside the quarters of my mind that this is it,

This is goodbye.