I've read a very sad story about Love many years ago, when I was still at the verge of discovering the treasures written words have with them. It's about a man who wasn't able to move on from a lost Love with her ex-girlfriend to the point that he kept visiting her every year just to see her-now with children of her own and a husband who existed faraway-but a husband still. His visits became an annual ritual for the kids and for the woman. But the man and the woman are both aware that the yearly visits will always end with the man saying, "Goodbye", and the woman ending it with a sad "Goodbye".
This poem is for people who made Goodbye a source of life-a life full of what if's and could have beens.
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There are some who
live life after they have found
that someone special.
Well, I started living mine
when I lost that someone.
My friends tell me that
I should do the right thing
and put it behind me.
Get on with my life
with the hopes of finding
the new someone who'll
make me forget about my last.
But I can't do it. I just can't.
I know few people understand
what I'm going through.
Some fake sympathy and concern.
Bollocks!
Through each passing year
I've always visited
my special someone.
Not with hopes of the two of us
getting back together
-which is impossible and preposterous.
My special someone already has kids.
Three of them.
I love those kids. I truly do.
I treat them like my
own every time I visit once a year.
When the time to part comes, I focus.
I take in the voice and the eye contact.
That's the only time I exist.
Imagine? I only feel alive once a year
- at about a few seconds.
It didn't matter that
the only words we were always
saying were Goodbyes.
Goodbye. Goodbye.
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*Picture from http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_KDtM28ScAEU/SxPcOS-WxwI/AAAAAAAAAD8/2SWsE5B5JKI/s1600/Goodbye.jpg
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