I may, after leaving you, shed no tears,
Write nothing, dismantle the lights at home,
Take refuge in darkness, in drink, intoxication,
But I will probably miss you dearly.

I may, after a few days, get used to the silence,
Get used to the ghost of our past, lurking
Behind every door, waiting to reveal itself
In a moment of pain and suffering,
But I will not get used to the defeat.

I may, after leaving, spend months lying to myself,
Think that all is going well, even pick up the phone,
Without the fear of hearing your voice,
Even if it is the only thing I crave.
I will not, however, read your letters,
See your profile, read our messages, and accept
That once we existed.

I may, after a year, regain my voice in my soliloquy,
Look for someone else, watching for signs of failure,
Go blind to the ghosts that pull back the curtains of memory,
To remind me again of all that I lost.

I will not, however, look back.