God, I’m good at them
ending, I mean
unconsceiously bracing for them
from the first moment
I tap my foot
anticipating them
convincing myself
if it’s this good
it will never last
or if it’s this bad
it shouln’t anyway
I follow by rote
defined patterns of behavior
never using the future tense
omitting words from my vocabulary
so I wont’ regret them later
us and we
neatly replace with I and he
My goodbyes
are honed to perfection
ever the stoic
I cry only after the has rounded
the corner
if ever
It seems
I have come to prefer
the colder colors
and subtle surrender
of a sunset
to the harsh and all to expectant sunrise.