I thought we’d occupy the same space
indefinitely, through the eternities of everydays,
sometimes talking, sometimes merely breathing
in this Eden called Here, until
the sun set behind you and you talked of leaving.
“Good for you,” I say. But I hope you ache
the way I do, the way I have, the way I will.
Oh I’m over-dramatic, it was only a kiss
that one time
when we were drunk.
See I’m a fool
who would think of nothing else, crave nothing less.
Now every bottle I down is a halfway replay.
Always I’ll fall short of a kiss’ intoxication
but somehow float in the haze of a memory
gone stale with repeated remembering
and you’ll leave me dreaming of a kiss
that no more will be returned.
Goodbye
is not the end. It’s only the beginning of missing.
by Kat Madarang
Kat Madarang’s work has been published in the Electronic Monsoon Magazine and the Burningword Literary Journal. She is currently pursuing a Master’s degree in Creative Writing at the University of the Philippines.
