The Final Goodbye

By Gaurav Chandrawanshi

He stood beneath a sky so wide,

With words unspoken trapped inside.

Eyes like oceans, storms untold,

Hands once warm, now trembling cold.

She smiled softly, her lips a sigh,

A fragile bird about to fly.

Their shadows stretched, their echoes stayed,

In all the things they couldn’t say.

“Stay,” he whispered, barely a sound,

But her feet were already off the ground.

Love isn’t chains, it’s not a cage,

It’s a fleeting story on a fragile page.

She turned once more, her eyes were glass,

As if the world had stopped to pass.

“Thank you,” she said, voice laced with rain,

“For loving me through all my pain.”

And then she walked, one step, then two,

Into a world he never knew.

He stayed behind, a statue, a stone,

In a place they’d once called home.

But love like theirs—it doesn’t fade,

It doesn’t break, it doesn’t trade.

It lives in corners, in quiet sighs,

In midnight stars and morning skies.

So when the night grows cold and still,

And silence bends against his will,

He’ll close his eyes, he’ll hear her say:

“I loved you then, I love you still…

But sometimes love means walking away.”

By Gaurav Chandrawanshi