the evolution of goodbye

1.
your brother embraced me first.
his skin was warm and his chest was bony.
he tucked my head between his elbows, told me he'd miss me & meant it.

you pulled me from his arms into yours,
held your breath tight in your lungs,
and let me slip away.

2.
i cherry-picked the memories of you and hid them under my bed,
but treasure always has a way of finding itself again.

3.
i've never had the patience for puzzles.
still, you left me in shambles that used
to fit together. no instruction manual.

how do you assemble a working machine with broken parts?

4.
in Grand Valley, Arizona, i was in my grandmother's
home after so long. you buzzed my phone to life and
the entire Grand Canyon collapsed from the shock waves.

you asked about my puzzle. i told you it was perfect.
to this day, orange dust puffs out of my phone to remind
me that i’m still missing pieces.

5.
we closed our eyes at the same time,
said i love you the only way we knew how,
and clicked each other out of existence.
we were sure this would do the trick.

one week later, we gnawed on the same bone.

6.
the final time, it was simple. easy.
like this was the way it was meant to be:

two restless lovers finally surrendering
their crossbows, putting out their matches,
laying their gentle heads after eternity.