My friends,

In my life.

The door swings

and I don’t have the energy to stop it from swinging shut.

I fear the new

You are the new

The new becomes old

And old means some kind of death

Either loss or replacement.

My eyes go red as I watch you go

But that’s all I do–watch you go.

I think of smiling (to let you know you were precious to me)

but I am not momentarily happy.

I think of tears (to let you see the depth and breadth of that place you’ve hollowed out in me)

but I am so full of pain that I am more angry than sad.

I think of holding on (to let you feel the warmth I carry inside toward you)

but I know the tighter the grip, the less the room for the thing you are gripping.

I think of letting go (to let you know I believe in your future and in your destiny and in your destination)

but if I let go, I can easily forget I ever touched you.

I listen intently

as the door creaks

then thuds

shut

in front of my eyes.

I feel powerless.

I’m filled with emotions of all sorts,

but I am empty.

My eyes go red with grief.

I turn my gaze toward the floor.

It never moves.