Her eyes welled up with tears, even as he gave her one last kiss. It was a sweet kiss, filled with love as pure as fresh fallen snow. He pulled away with a sad smile, and her heart clenched at his expression. He was just as sorry to leave her as she was sorry to see him go. But they would see each other again. Even if it wasn’t within the next month, or year. Their hearts would beat as one, no matter the distance. And…someday, the lovers would meet again.
The last words that left his mouth were a question. And then, there was no more….
Michael Bowring
Departure.
When we depart for Cambodia,
I have no idea how I’m going to feel.
Excited, yes. But will
my medication be able
to come along? I don’t know
if I’m stable enough for this.
I’m not sure if I want to go.
The rain left it’s familiar trails and tracks on the window. I stared, watching each drop eventually connect with another. My father drove, the standard classic rock station blaring over the sound of pounding of water.
I never found it all that interesting when he complained about her “growing away” from him. It wasn’t like he was exactly trying to keep up with what was important to her, especially when he put even more distance between them with the choices he made too. But so much for pointing out the obvious. It was a sad story, those two, and it was one from which I would much prefer to take my departure. Lesson learned: put some serious fucking effort into it or let go.
I left at noon. The weather was awful. Rain was pouring down like I had never seen it pour down. It just helped remind me of how awfully sick I was of this place. Leaving felt better than I had expected it to.
Frida
They stood at the departure gate, standing awkwardly together in line, although he was staying and she was leaving. “Call when you get there,” he said. “I will,” she said.
Today marks the day of leaving the past behind. It isn’t that I choose to disregard whatever happened then, but I choose to look forward instead of looking back. I would rather choose to look to the future and stand in power, than stand still like a pillar of salt.
It was 8 o’clock PM, the plane’s departure time was 6 o’clock PM. He was screwed but then he knew this sort of thing would happen. It always does. In fact all these years, he has come to believe that these sorts of things should happen.
I didn’t know you would leave so soon. You should have at least warned me, gave me enough time to say goodbye. Let me at least take you to the airport. Is it too late to change your mind?
There were no words spoken as he left the house. A longing stare regarded with a piercing glare; eyes filled with tears met a gaze full of anger; shaky breaths mingled with short, sharp huffs. As the door slammed shut, he fell to the floor, fell through the ground, the earth, and into the abyss itself.
when i thought departure i first remind of airport and ofcourse railway station where the announcements been doing all the day regarding train number and its departure and arrival time.Also the word departure gives me the thought of departing this world
siva
As she left, again, I felt a final whim of fury. A final progression of anger that subsided with a brief vulnerability. No more for her. I must focus. And be done with it.
matt cady
departure is the going of someone to a place or from where they have come. departure of someone from our life is the most difficult part for us if we are attached to that being. departure does not give us happiness but a sense of pain waiting for the return of the person.
sarthakk
With a lopsided grin, the 23-year-old stepped out the front door; his trusty bat in one hand and a loaded, ready-to-go pistol in the other. Today was going to be a great day.
They say that endings like this are where the soul and heart finally become independent from each other. That departures like this hurt at first and strengthen your being soon after, but it’s been three months since I’ve had anything to do with you and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I can’t take anymore of this.
It wasn’t much of a departure from his normal train of thought: he would go there, unexpected, after dark. The only difference was that this time he would have a knife.
Her eyes welled up with tears, even as he gave her one last kiss. It was a sweet kiss, filled with love as pure as fresh fallen snow. He pulled away with a sad smile, and her heart clenched at his expression. He was just as sorry to leave her as she was sorry to see him go. But they would see each other again. Even if it wasn’t within the next month, or year. Their hearts would beat as one, no matter the distance. And…someday, the lovers would meet again.
The nouns left his mouth. Then the verbs.
The last words that left his mouth were a question. And then, there was no more….
Departure.
When we depart for Cambodia,
I have no idea how I’m going to feel.
Excited, yes. But will
my medication be able
to come along? I don’t know
if I’m stable enough for this.
I’m not sure if I want to go.
The rain left it’s familiar trails and tracks on the window. I stared, watching each drop eventually connect with another. My father drove, the standard classic rock station blaring over the sound of pounding of water.
I never found it all that interesting when he complained about her “growing away” from him. It wasn’t like he was exactly trying to keep up with what was important to her, especially when he put even more distance between them with the choices he made too. But so much for pointing out the obvious. It was a sad story, those two, and it was one from which I would much prefer to take my departure. Lesson learned: put some serious fucking effort into it or let go.
I left at noon. The weather was awful. Rain was pouring down like I had never seen it pour down. It just helped remind me of how awfully sick I was of this place. Leaving felt better than I had expected it to.
They stood at the departure gate, standing awkwardly together in line, although he was staying and she was leaving. “Call when you get there,” he said. “I will,” she said.
Today marks the day of leaving the past behind. It isn’t that I choose to disregard whatever happened then, but I choose to look forward instead of looking back. I would rather choose to look to the future and stand in power, than stand still like a pillar of salt.
It was 8 o’clock PM, the plane’s departure time was 6 o’clock PM. He was screwed but then he knew this sort of thing would happen. It always does. In fact all these years, he has come to believe that these sorts of things should happen.
g’bye. see you in a month. got everything? text when you get there.b’bye. is he gone? jeez, what a pain in the ass. do not ever invite him again!
her sunset hair all
hell-bound and flickering
like the memories of us
at 2:00am trying to spark
a liver forestfire.
she never screamed.
That’s what’s different about us:
I’m all lungs and April,
droughts cracking
until the showers bloom
into the corners of my eyes,
and I praise God.
I praise God.
she endures in humid silence.
I didn’t know you would leave so soon. You should have at least warned me, gave me enough time to say goodbye. Let me at least take you to the airport. Is it too late to change your mind?
I’m back to my dislike of airports now. I much prefer to be at arrivals than the departure point!
There were no words spoken as he left the house. A longing stare regarded with a piercing glare; eyes filled with tears met a gaze full of anger; shaky breaths mingled with short, sharp huffs. As the door slammed shut, he fell to the floor, fell through the ground, the earth, and into the abyss itself.
when i thought departure i first remind of airport and ofcourse railway station where the announcements been doing all the day regarding train number and its departure and arrival time.Also the word departure gives me the thought of departing this world
As she left, again, I felt a final whim of fury. A final progression of anger that subsided with a brief vulnerability. No more for her. I must focus. And be done with it.
departure is the going of someone to a place or from where they have come. departure of someone from our life is the most difficult part for us if we are attached to that being. departure does not give us happiness but a sense of pain waiting for the return of the person.
With a lopsided grin, the 23-year-old stepped out the front door; his trusty bat in one hand and a loaded, ready-to-go pistol in the other. Today was going to be a great day.
They say that endings like this are where the soul and heart finally become independent from each other. That departures like this hurt at first and strengthen your being soon after, but it’s been three months since I’ve had anything to do with you and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I can’t take anymore of this.
It wasn’t much of a departure from his normal train of thought: he would go there, unexpected, after dark. The only difference was that this time he would have a knife.