goodbye

your eyes
were the last sunrise
that kept me up.

it was a parting gift
I could not scrape
from the inner-linings
of this heart.

I still smell
& oh
how I can still feel her,
the memories of her skin
across my fingertips
where every time I touch lace
or any kind of silk
I remember those strands.

those Victoria Secret ideas
leaving us to quake in the forgiveness
of each other's blessings.

now I part with nothing
but a closed eyelid,
found inside a deepened wood
this is no morning sun.
this is no parting goodbye.

this is a travesty in deadwood
bartered by something devious,
a wish that only a carpenter
wishes to tell,
for they scrape the confines of this wood
and understand the aging details
every cut circle they impale.

the carpenter came to my home
he told me he understands
that one day I will too,
but right now.
I can't fathom the loss
I don't understand this kind of torment
leaving my condolences and saying
maybe, this is a strong goodbye.