Absence

Memories packed into a suitcase, the code never mine.

2:45 p.m.
Airport Departure Hall

I sent away what once was happiness,
and what greeted me—
a map already lost.

The strings of separation echo in my ears.

“Forgive me, I must be absent in your life,” you said.
I could not meet your eyes,
even knowing this was the last of us.
You touched my left cheek,
leaving me your final tenderness.
I saw the tears rising in your eyes.

Thank you—
for your willfulness, setting my soul free today.
Thank you—
for the nights and days I ached for you.
Thank you—
for calling me from the bathroom, hiding from another love,
whispering in pain: “I miss you so much.”
Thank you—
for telling me after speaking with him,
“Once I’ve dealt with him, I’m yours,”—your self-comfort.
Thank you—
for the cunning way you said,
“Don’t speak of farewell, we’ll see each other soon.”

The memories you gave me—
they’re all in this suitcase.
You choose the code.
Don’t tell me.

Your cleverness—
I was the only one blind to it.
My naivety led me into danger.
Only at our ending
did I finally wake.

The clues between us
dissolved into smoke as we parted.
The same streets, the same cycles—
yet not the same beginning.
Melancholy and loneliness
have become my friends.
What does not change, remains unchanged.
The past cannot return.
The future holds no place
for you and me.

Thank you for the mistakes we made.
Today, we are both released without guilt.