So....
In a week we must meet, after six dark lost months...

I've attempted to grow me and tried not to fall
whilst you’ve wooed New Woman and given your all.

There’s no chance to avoid this. It’s a friend’s event...

I’d rather never look at you again
than have you look at me still in pain.

You returned my things by mail with no note. Thanks - I think...

Every reminder or whisper of you
splits me wide open, slices clean through.

I imagine your silk skin; how we passion-played and laughed...

I must be distant, adult and self-controlled
and get back to safety before I fold.

Why can’t you say sorry; you've awoken; that you love me? ...

Ah yes. I recall that you said that you don’t
and that ‘we’ll be friends’, as is your wont.
Well then my love. Oh no we won’t.
Well then my love. Love always. I can't.