P Pan

I've said it before, but I am ill equipped when it comes to goodbyes. But this is especially pertinent when the goodbye itself is not paired with a reason. No jagged set of final words, no raised voices, or the somber pressure of the last hug. And It eats me alive when I have no grounds for letting go. Absence can be defended in the mind. You can invent stories; tell yourself they got in a threshing car accident, unable to contact you or voice their need for you to the bedside attendant. You can convince yourself that their reasons ultimately benefit you, that their selfishness is just a clever disguise for a selfless sacrifice. When you can't look them in the eye and pan for guilt or anger, it becomes a fitting reaction to defend them with a handful of beautiful memories and blind faith. So what do you do? You keep a vigilant look out for that blue, two door, Honda Civic parked on the curb. Does that make you a failure to yourself and the people who believe you to be a strong and independent individual?

You are like smoke to me. You signal heat, and energy. Where you rise, incredible things have happened. Things have burned, things have lived so violently that they thrust you out of their pores. You are ominous and significant as a symbol of birth and death. But by the time you are taken note of, you begin to flicker and fade. You dissipate into the surrounding air of innocuous normality. I reach out to grab you, to hold onto your drama, but all I get is a second-long sting and ash-blackened palms. I want you back, I want you back smoke. Because without you these blue skies will drive me straight into the ground. And I promised you we'd do that together, you push the dirt in handfuls over my eyes and I'll pack it tight around your chest until the breathing stops. Fading is slow and beautiful when you do it side by side with your best friend.