• Savina Wright

Vanishing Points

Updated: Aug 30

You say your goodbyes to me in different ways.

Sometimes loud, piercing, and violent.

Other times, it is a soft whisper at the doorstep.

Here we are in our separate worlds: Earthquakes under our feet, swallowing the words we could have said.

Your silence is the tremor in my bones, the rage in my body.

We don’t know how to say goodbye. We stumble upon the words.

And trip over ourselves.

We fumble over our sorrow.

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