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What you lose in the breaking,
and the leaving, and in the tearing
up of things is not the weight
of the burden of a flailing we,
unravelling as it were,
beneath the weight of the angst
the uncertainty of ambivalent inquiry weaves
in its wake.

What you gain is not peace,
or freedom, or the sense of soaring free;
a relief craved like cold water
on a blistering summer day –
a breath drawn deep, air gulped
a sigh of resignation
at the certainty of leaving.

What you leave in the un-cleaving,
is a good riddance tossed like a curse
into the wind, the silhouette of a fading back
the only linger of a memory
quickly fading into a transient thought

What you lose is the endearing quality
of a sometimes awkward silence,
of knowing, and being known
and of safely being-
and the joy and the passion
deeply feeling things brings.

What you learn, when in the lingering
haunting sound of silence you reflect,
is that what you lose is the joy of eyes
lit by quotidian things –
is laughter, and living and loving;
and hope for hoping against hope
for a thousand smiling summers.