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how to say goodbye (fly boy, fly)

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in the aftermath: a pool of blood, a 
bloodied knife. look to the heavens and tell me
how to live. how to die—this is how you live.
feel the crinkle of the paper, the rivered
ink in your hands. the blur of tears in your
jaded eyes. (i wish i'd said goodbye.)


in the aftermath: a blue bird, a
song unsung. look to the skies and tell me
how to fly. how to fall—this is how you fly.
feel the bend of the bamboo, the measured
flex of your hands. the glint of the sun in your
mortal eyes. (this is not goodbye.)


how to say goodbye: four syllables,
forever ago. i stand in a field of rye, screaming 
your name. say-ou-na-ra—this is how you love.
alone, my letter in your hands and your heart
in mine. maybe, this is how you fly: 
dying, the light streaming halos behind your
angel eyes.