Zen and the Art of Saying Goodbye

I
She was so happy she could have cried,
she said. And he believed her.
He was taken by her honesty.
The room now felt as naked as they were, and new.

The radio alarm clock began its song perfectly.
Sinatra was signing "Fly Me to the Moon,"
And their laughter danced its way to the stars.
This morning the sunlight was not intrusive, but perfect.

II
But just as light breaks night falls,
and just as life wakes death calls.
Everything comes and goes.

There's a transitive nature to all things,
lovers, friends, ends beginnings.
Faith is a dog's nose.

"You fool," he said, but how could he be blamed to trust sincerity.
Words are words. Just words, just words.
They're glass they're masks, they're fire, they're swords

I know no other way to feel.
I tell you because I can.
Yet, I'm afraid to say I miss you.
You may not understand.

III
Still, in the darkest, most hidden corner of my soul
there is a hunger for the shadow that falls
between the soft curve of your back,
for the missing weight of your hand on my chest.

Nick A.