I could not help the silly jokes
any less than our conversation
embraced with nostalgic punctuation.
Cosmic commas every blink of my eye,
every tap of my hand upon your memory,
with every prayer for the children you seeded.
Your delicate ribbons wrap round my wrist ...
... and tug at my heart, tug at this illusion
lifting upwards with strength only met in the heavens,
unaffected by the passage of time.
Goodbye has never existed.
Goodbye was never an option.
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Ron