it breaks the heart, or at least puts a few solid dents in it. and you can’t replace hearts like you’d replace a battered chestpiece on a good set of armor—because you’d think that the armor’s what protects the heart beneath, but it’s not actually true. the heart…it can take a few hits and keep on beating.
and this set—it shows each dent and each beat. it’s like trying to make sense of the moment you lose something by going through all the moments you found it, realizing finding it was having it all along. the approach, the acceptance, the acknowledgement—and the goodbye. the first steps; the stillness after, just being together side by side. there’s a desperation in knowing those last steps you tike might be away from each other; the farewell that at least you got to have this time.
trying to put it in order. trying to see where it started and where it had to end. and realizing, standing in front of the stars, always knowing there’s somebody to watch them with you, that the end was never a part of the beginning. goodbye means i’ll see you—always, and maybe again.