“Next year
I won’t be here”
You whisper in my ear
“I’m headed to a new school
Far away from here”
Over the years this has happened
Too many times to count
The second I get close to someone
They leave
The second I care for someone
They disappear
And although I’ve heard these words
Many times before
It doesn’t mean I’m used to them
Doesn’t mean I’ll step out of denial
Long enough to say the dreaded word
Doesn’t mean I won’t cry
Doesn’t mean it won’t hurt
Doesn’t mean I’ll continue to
Try and get close to people
In fear that it will end
In just another heartbreak
With
The memories
The only things I have left
Being carried away
With the breeze
The breeze
Whispering
“Goodbye”