forty years of goodbye

the way of the world
catches like a breath of forty years
down my throat when i first saw the rain,
mid-fall from the sky,
blistering your presence
on my skin and eyes,
but i caught only a feather
of your thoughts, and the music
to your steps doesn't come
floating down the road,
i hover beyond places
unknown and far from my heart,
there is only a tremor,
and even that fail to keep you
close to where my mind rests
- i am the dissolution
of dreams, the loneliness
of sparrows, the heartland
of goodbye, broken down the middle
where we stay forever turned
outside with no burning blood,
to sever the pain between each winding
of the clock to a full circle of a face