When you walk away,
when the sun sets
upon your turning back
and your hand blocks
the moon from shining light
into what we were, don't say goodbye
before you go; don't let the words spill
like tears that land carelessly
upon barren ground that had never
been yours to tread upon;
don't touch my weeping face
as it crumbles between the furtive
fingers that had once held it together;
don't hold me in the slippery embrace
of your passions, an hourglass
that keeps me trapped
in an ampoule of endless grieving;
don't turn around while I drown
in a mound of salt that keeps my raw pain
from rotting and only adds flavor
to the sorrow of letting you go.
Just walk away.
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