Note #816

I’ve drafted way too many goodbye notes to let you finish a single one.

I’ve shot myself too many times to ever trust you with a barrel of the gun.

Call out my double standards and swear that you’ll never speak to me,

Comfort your vividly green envy but let my wide eyes be your prophecy –

Don’t you ever follow me, don’t you ever step a foot in my direction.

Trust the gut that’s pulling you away from the path of polished affection.

The little perfections will turn into an avalanche that buries the strongest.

One day the immaculate snow won’t melt away until the middle of August.

Take my advice as a warning but don’t carry it home like a gilded shield.

You can’t learn a lesson worth your while if your lips are spitefully ceiled.

But I’ve drafted too many farewell addresses to give you any ink for free.

Put my silly words in a backpack, waste them over another nosebleed

Until you find your true creed.

-JW