X - Lesotho, in the airport

I was not thinking -

anything not to focus
on leaving, and goodbyes, and pain,
twisting open caps -
anything not to think
about this,
the ending,
fizzing up, over,
onto trembling fingers,
a sticky mess
of sugar
and water
and memories
that cling to the skin
and don't let go.

It could have burned -
blistered into flesh,
bled veins dry.

And I would have felt nothing.