inevitable

twelve

a cup of coffee

with a cinnamon hint

warmth heavy on fingertips

i lift the mug

and take a sip.

--

of course,

time is merciless

even if we plead

even if we cry

it slips away from our grasp

like sand from an hourglass

slowly,

but surely.

--

and it wonders,

a part of me.

quiet, subdued

it asks

was it worth it?

yet even with my head bowed,

i know the answer

yes, for all that it was worth.

it was.

and i accept that

despite it all.

--

they were bitter words once

sharp on my tongue

a weapon with your hurt

it's acrid blade has since dulled away

(with acceptance comes understanding)

and then,

and

then

'i should go.'

.
.
.

perspective

it changes.

--

i know now that

words of goodbye

do not really mean

the end.

--

and in this game we play

life, it's called