Good bye whisper's our names when we can't consaplate the thought of letting go, when the very thought of turning away from the fire before we burn any more makes our skin break out in fever,
not from the fire but from the wrath that shimmers off the surface of the flames reaching to sky as if to escape our clutches that are feeble and desprate
we want them to turn to us, cup our chins and look into our eyes with the flames of desire and adoration, not with the sorrow and embers of a dwadling affair,
blindsided by the turn of events, perplaxed by how we are to hold up the back breaking weight of the heavy heart once light in freedom now turned to lead by a wicked witch of lovers last kiss
the last 'i love you' dranked up greedly and for granted, not savered as the presiouse last moments with them are now to be taken with extra care.
Good bye's are a dreaded wind whispering our names, brushing our hairs ever so softly, tickeling our foreheads as if to reach deep inside and exstrate the meormires of the signifcate other trying to leave
take the sure waves of pain that will tackel our lungs and squeez the gasping breathes from our mouths, breathless cries echoing to the wake of the footsteps drawing closer to the exit of our lives that have suddenly grown dark
Good bye's come in packages with strict instrutions to handel with fragility, that the reciever will wear a stark mark on their hearts for forever,
a sudden distrust in other prospects, the wrapping of the goodbye still laying on the floor at home
proof that lovers come and go, and each time grows more bearable for the fragments of our soul are swallowing in tolerance for the gagged knife piercing its essances
Good bye's whisper our names when our rosed mouths open to beg with the words our brother and sisters in the same situations have pleaded with before, years go bye before the goodbye's traces leave our bodies for good
But the whispers of good byes can be inked on papers of pain and recanted to new pure clean genrations, trying to aid in the delaying of their own packages of the Good bye, cut the land line so the Good bye's cannot ring up the unfourtine and whisper its mournful news. Good bye's make bodies stronger and wiser, the lashes of pain make callscuouses until the white knight resucues us and earses the scares the whispers snaked around us encrusted,
Good bye's whispers can be drowned out by the shouts of Hellos'
