I can never bring myself
to tell you goodbye, so I
will carve into small, blue stones
My farewells and Promises,
and leave them behind at forts
and cinemas:

All the places that were ours
Will continue so to be.
Slumbering, undisturbed,
obedient stones will lie
until one of us, through brooding,
goes where so often we used to be;
or, oh forbid, the other
chances on them, with another,
fresh-picked love.