Somewhere between right and wrong, there is a garden.
I will meet you there. - Rumi
How do you say, Goodbye, particularly to a dream you still wish were true?
I don't know how.
Goodbye. It is the language of ghosts.
How do you break away from a conversation that you know is your last?
I can't.
Goodbye. It is what remains unspoken when the heart stands unguarded and everything else stands frozen in time. Almost like the sun hiding behind the clouds.
How do you express a good wish when parting?
I won't.
Because goodbye seems like forever.
Yet even when no words are uttered aloud, behind that which has been left unsaid are the sounds and colors of every breath chrystallized into vivid pieces of memory.
The unexpressed vow.
So I won't look back. I don't need to because I will remember.
Someday.
Somewhere in a garden.
Io con te. Me with you.
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