You said hello like a promise held close to your chest in tightly clasped hands
I tried to pry your fingers apart and lace your delicate spider-webbed hands with mine
but you wouldn't let me in
So I decided that sometimes hello's  are more tragic than goodbyes

--

You said forever like a whispered prayer
letting the words tumble from your crackled paper lips
like a whisper to some forgotten deity
I looked for your god in the twilight
but I couldn't find a single presence
So I decided forever didn't really exist

--

You stepped over the thresh-hold and closed the door and disappeared and never whispered a single word
I closed my eyes and offered my heart to your god but he did not answer and you did not return
So I decided to give up on hello's and goodbye's and forever and everything in between

--

When someone asks why I have stopped praying, I will blame your spider-webbed hands and crackled paper lips.