Goth Boy

After saying goodbye, I came home

ready to embrace that you were gone,

only to find parts of you yet lingered:

a Tool T-shirt crumpled on the floor,

rainbow glitter wristband on the bed,

Black Death cigarette box on the floor.

All signs you were not just a dream;

memories of you I could still touch,

smell, taste, and that if I held onto,

you might return someday to claim.

Knowing better of you, I placed it in

a box and addressed it to your home.

I didn’t want to let go of the package

as the postman took it from my hand,

having to say goodbye all over again,

having to accept the ultimate finality;

even tho’ you were clear from the start,

your silver choker chain had no leash.

~g