Our goodbyes, they’re like chewing
gum. We chew on it. Mint, fruit,
burst in our mouths. Tired of the
motions, we stick it under the desk.
I wonder how many people have
ended up spotting that blob of
gum. Annoyed. Angry. The gum
gone colourless, hardened, stuck.
Just like our goodbyes. No?
My faith, like a cat’s retractable
claw. Enclosed in pudginess. It
scratches you, (lovingly), again
inside. You like softness, you say.
So my claw, sometimes attempts,
to scratch the gum out from
underneath the desk. To unstick,
undo that fossil like goodbye.
I read it. (Like some read tea
leaves). Your dental impressions
marked deep. With such finiteness.
I realize no one can breath life.
Into old, stuck, chewed gums.
this brought a lump to my throat – for obvious reasons, i guess.
ps. i’ve always been a fan of your poetry.
Never say goodbye :)
Poetry is usually lost on me, but this one made sense. Awesome!
Not only this makes sense, it inspires.