They stay like a moss on a damp heart. pirouetting envelopes lying scattered on the floor. shining dim light, blurs the vision of you waving your hand to me. fullstops putting a barrier to my lips. the words choking as if bullets are shot into my oesophagus. they aren’t easy. even if it’s the last time I am meeting you, the words will form a graveyard in my stomach dying one by one. I ain’t that clichè sad movie which will have a happy ending. goodbye’s will stay, if your words will.