Halfway Through Saying Goodbye

I

was going

to say something;

simple,

maybe a thank you

or a sorry,

but the words got tangled

somewhere between here

and my next breath.

*

My

feet don’t know

where to land;

the pavement’s cracked,

or maybe

it’s just my mind

that’s breaking

in places.

*

The

wind whispers

a question

I’m not sure I want to answer,

and I want to stop,

to turn,

to run back to what I know.

Instead,

I’m still moving,

still caught between

what I had and what I lost.

*

I’m

halfway through

the sentence

that could change everything,

but I bite it back,

let it slip away.

*

There’s

a silence

that feels heavier

than noise,

and I’m holding it close,

like a secret

I’m not quite ready

to tell.

*

So,

I keep walking;

mid-step,

mid-thought,

half-remembering

how to be okay

without ever really

meaning it.