I have gotten used to letting go of people

Again and again.

 

They stay inside my heart for awhile

But most of them are passersby.

 

I know they will leave inevitably

So I always say my goodbyes quietly

even before they make up their minds

even before they pack up and go.

 

When they’re gone

I try not to search the gaps

and hollow spaces they once occupied

I try not to feel the small indentations

caused by every word

and every touch

 

But the mind is a masochist–

It goes back again and again.

It keeps probing

Unable to resist asking

the whys

and the what ifs

that will never be answered.