Nothing Good about Goodbye

I let you go, some
eight years since...before
you forgot my name –
my face. Before
you chucked your clothes
down a rubbish chute...
and were convinced
there was a tiger
in our front room
and refused to go in
from then on.

Let go of the lilacs
before they were
in bloom that spring...
the ones you used
to pick and arrange,
so carefully, in a vase
on the kitchen table...
before you boarded
that bus returning
from shopping;
a trip you’d made
a hundred times
but you couldn’t find
the way back....

I kidded myself if I said
goodbye, then...before
you were aware
you’d even left,
when it came to the crunch
it wouldn’t hurt as much.
But when I kissed you,
today – said, ‘Until next time,
my sweet...’ you, there,
with your back to me,
staring blankly
out the window,
I knew, ‘Goodbye’,
was just another
dirty word.