Thank You

by epi

this
is my ritual.
my private goodbye, that
over the years
has become less a goodbye
and more a
thank you.

sifting through everything i am,
boxing up item after item
that different me’s have touched
deciding which should be kept
and which should be thrown
(not away, just, left behind, allowed
to be a perfect, untoched memory)

it would be unfair to say i’m not
who i was just because i’ve changed
i’m all of who i was, all of those people
in me, all of who they are like bricks
building me or sometimes a wrecking
ball tearing walls (good or bad) down
to be remodeled

this is my ritual. private. a moment i embrace
alone, like i came, like i’ll leave

i’ve lost count
of how many moons have
illuminated my drying tears.

i wouldn’t, even if i could, try to recall
how many midnight
train whistles have drowned out whispered
goodbyes.

leaving. ritual. my time to greet a sun
rising on empty rooms and bare floors

this is mine.
time that can be quiet even with music
blaring, when experiences can finally be
honestly weighed against their consequences,
cost benefit analysis, and then finally
be discarded because loss or gain,
even with backtracking, i can’t make up or
undo miles i’ve already traveled.

this
is my ritual.
my private goodbye, that
over the years
has become less a goodbye
and more a
thank you.

Thank you.

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