Goodbye | Teen Ink


February 25, 2014
By jj1812ghiz BRONZE, Washington, District Of Columbia
jj1812ghiz BRONZE, Washington, District Of Columbia
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
"We are reading the story of our lives, as though we were in it, as though we had written it."

It’s funny,

How simple things,

Can shape one life.

My life.

A corner in a room.

A picture on the wall.

Late nights in bean bags,

Watching movies on the big screen.

Granite counters.

Winding stairs.

Famous Amos cookies.

Fruit roll-ups.

And love.

So much love.

Goodbyes aren’t easy.

This one nearly killed me.

Houses can be homes,

This I know.

A place that will always,

Be there.

I can still see that wall.

The one with all our signatures,

And drawings.

From years ago.

Or the plaque on the wall.

You know,

The one with the noses

Of my uncles and aunts and my dad.

I’ve had many houses

In many places.

But my home,

Wasn't any of those.

That house

That home

Was always ready to

Greet me.

Love me.

Comfort me.

Envelope me.

A place for me to be me.

But now,

That place is no longer there.

No, no, no.

It is there.

It’s just not mine.

Not anymore.

It was sold,

Like a piece of jewelry.

Or a piece of furniture.

Something that has invaluable value,

That no one sees.

Or understands.

It’s hard not to feel.

Feel bitter.

Feel sad.

Feel anger.

Mixed feelings.

I know how that is.

I want to forget.

I want to remember.

How can I express,

Everything inside of me.\\

Like a bomb,

Ready to blow.

Goodbyes aren't easy.

This one nearly killed me.

Just a thought,

Transports me back.

To snowball fights,

Planned productions,

Sunday dinners

And the sweet joy of family.

It wasn't even my house.

But it was.

It was all of ours.


The day I said Goodbye,

Is imprinted in my mind.

Like a forever frozen footprint

Stuck inside my head.

I remember the tears.

I remember the laughter.

I remember the pictures.

I remember it all.


I forget the smells.

I forget the touch

Of everything.

Goodbyes aren't easy.

This one nearly killed me.

But I’m not dead.

At least, not physically.

Emotionally though,

Is another story.

A part of me died that day.

One I can’t get back.

But I’ll move on.

I won’t forget.

I won’t remember.

I’ll survive.

The author's comments:
This is a poem about my grandparent's house, which was sold.

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