Goodbyes

The first goodbye
of my wedding
was not a goodbye at all,
was to a life I did not ever miss,
one that I never desired,
the life before her
—or more precisely
the life before I was the person
who could be loved
who could love
like I am
like I do
now.

The last goodbye
of my wedding
was the goodbye of a silly lady,
was to my best friend,
was to the person who defined my year,
in many uncountable divine ways
and is one I am still crying about
even though our next meeting will feel like tomorrow
—it’s just that there has to be a previous a current a next,
that the spirit is not enough,
selfishly;
but to be loved is to be changed
to survive, to continue on
and one day I pray I pray I pray
the next will be measured
in hours and not days
and that
goodbyes
will be formalities
and not require
shoulders to cry on.