I am waiting
for you to fade.
Leaving me
alone, wishing
I didn't fall.

I am anticipating
your departure.
For it can't
possibly last -
this thing
called love.

Stupid of me
to think y ou'll stay.
It will only
be a few days now
before you pack
your bags
and move on.

And I am left.
Forgotten.
Like an old sweater.
Discarded.