goodbyes are good
but goodbyes
aren’t real

like the cliche
caterpillar—
the butterfly
doesn’t forget
who he was
where he’s been

it’s engrained
chock full of experience
his resistance
his apprehension
his blood brother
mother fuckin
best friend

together meshed
the matte medium
sealed the collage
permanently
intended to be
embedded
forever

you can’t escape
a goodbye
so why pronounce
a (the) lie

we are incapable
of erasing
anything
that
means
something.