I wrote this after a conversation with someone I care about. Come next year we will both be leaving and I don't know what I want.
Of course I want to believe we can last
But time makes certain that everything ends
Soon we will part, our fire dead and past
There is only one option life intends
Given the chance, each other we'll ruin
We'll fall apart, grow resentful. That's sure.
To hope otherwise would be undoing
Of earned history, remembrance obscured
And maybe our finish is not our doom
Rather the savior of sweet memory
Our expiration date above us looms
Instant grief, but fondness in reverie
Just choose the lesser of these sorry fates
Lose now/risk worse later. Sorrow awaits.