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The sky was God’s canvas that night when we last spoke.
The submerging sun was being swallowed
into the deep blue,
as the approaching darkness created a purple
hue,
it was speckled with tinges of pink that fused
sublimely with golden clouds,
cascading over a spread of aquamarine.
The scene was quite divine, but God’s brilliance
was left infinitely undone.
Even as the ocean gave birth to the moon
and its silvery sheen caressed your silky locks.
The universe still seemed incomplete
and infinitely undone.

Rarely is life relegated to a singular word,
a split-second that vibrates into an eruption
of emotions.
But when the sun died and resurrected the moon,
so did I become resurrected by a broken heart.
We had fallen aimlessly into the moment,
but I tried to ignore those whispering eyes
that secretly told the truth.
I returned to your once forgotten lips
And molded them with mines.
But time cannot be reeled in
It just flies, flies, flies away . . .
It is now known that even the sun reveals
false truths and the moon true lies.
But your eyes remained sincere as your lips released
a singular word:

Goodbye.