Because we choose the Loves we lack
Not those we dare to act;
Because we pick the loves we want
Not those that keep us intact;
Because we travel ages back
We seize to find ourselves;
Because the future do us taunt
We seize to be ourselves;
& over time we cease to see —
the ones we meet are much as we.
& every time, with each new Goodbye,
A part of us does gently die.
Until we irrevocably let go,
that part of us we deeply know;
Until we feel like jars of clay.
Still, do I say, by night & day,
Though we’re the ones who walked away
Goodbyes are may be harder to say —
For those who leave, than those who stay.
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