I stood on the southern shore of Tsim Sha Tsui

the night before I left, to tell you goodbye.

Before dusk underneath the clock tower, as promised,

amidst faces all the same, waiting. Slowly,

you lit up the sky, as the dark settled in.

Your rough, gray skin glowed, replacing the stars.

Beneath you the harbor comes alive, along with the current,

and the boats, and the ferry who resembles a vision of you

from years long ago. I have shared you for too long

with millions just like me. The same dance every night

for both hellos and goodbyes – a ballet of lights,

blue, yellow, gray, and white, I mistook for you and I.

Goodbye, I whispered into thin air, listen.

A new love has swept me to a place far away.

Silence. Your breath crashed with the waves,

tapping on the pier, fragrant as the sea.

The light sprinkle of water are your fingers

brushing against my skin. A murmur into my ear,

so faint a voice. Too late to look back

on what once was. Goodbye, my lover,

I must let you go, back to your stage

above the water where you belong.