how does one leave?
perhaps that is a question
which will be left unanswered
my voice will echo as I ask this
it would hit the walls and
they’d ask me the same thing
so we’d stand there
those walls and I
a solitude so full of tension
it wouldn’t feel like it
a momentum that one never thought
to have with something so silent
so still
yet I would continue
“i have left”
I would speak to the walls
I would not hear those echoes anymore
so many times
that they ache my heart and hurt my brain
but i do not know still
my dear
how does one truly leave?
every third year
in every corner of this world
passes by
the countdown begins
like a clock ticking at a pace it shouldn’t
a voice shaking at a rhythm it shouldn’t
ice breaking exactly when it shouldn’t
the leaving feels wrong
so I stay still
hoping that the clock realises
that the voice calms down
that the ice stops
before disaster
but wishful thinking
led me nowhere
so I’d pack my suitcase
and leave
farther than my eyes can stay awake
farther than my body has ever ached
when this speech
of mine
would stop
I would bitterly realise
that those are different walls
and just like that
I had left
again
it isn’t brilliant
it isn’t a spectacular thought to behold
to have a memory chopped into pieces
is not easy
but what are we if not leavers
what are we if we do not let go
who do we become if we stay
who do we become if we leave
i only know the answer to one of those
but to truly leave
all that magic
behind
is something I’ll never know
is something you’ll never know
perhaps
our biggest tragedies
our biggest dreams
our loveliest memories
the closest seams
of our hearts
lie in that
perhaps the biggest living
of this little life
lies within
the leaving of pieces