It already feels like goodbye is here.

Okay I promised that I wouldn’t do the self-pity thing… but sometimes promises are meant to be broken, especially the ones that you assume. Anyway I might as well channel it into a poem rather than rant. Stream of consciousness is something only Virginia Woolf (and associated contemporaries) should attempt, in my opinion.

It already feels like goodbye is here —

The ghost of a future farewell lingers;
Silently it passes through the walls of my mind
Just to stun me into sadness again,
Just to remind me:

It already feels like goodbye is here —

The threat of it has never been so real;
A gun at my temple, that shrine for you,
Metal against chest, cold steel meets heart,
Cold gasp, cold sweat, cold thought:

It already feels like goodbye is here —

Option for tears: no more/not yet/don’t know;
What can I do but smile for you?
What can I do but love with idyllic selflessness,
What else can I do when I realise:

It already feels like goodbye is here?

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