X - The Aftershock. (June 2011 - June 2012).

Understandably dismayed.
Calmed down, got on with things.
Had to.
Went on holiday.
Up north.
Weather wasn’t wonderful, but OK.
Heard from you a few times.
Got into university.
Creative writing.
We arranged a cinema trip.
That never happened.
Why not?
Said you’d get me out the house thanks to your car.
Then that was it.
Erratic contact.
Not a word until New Year’s Eve.
I wrote poetry.
Fellow students read them.
No new substitute.
Only you, still.
You changed.
Redder hair.
Out in town more.
New guys in all the images.
You didn’t care much before.
You really didn’t care now.
Slow to reply.
Fine, you were busy.
What, drinking?
Couldn’t you let me know how you were?
Nine months became ten.
Became eleven.
Told I should move on.
Ridiculous.
Ought to have hated you.
Didn’t.
You were ignorant.
Different.
But I kept sending messages.
I wanted to see you.
You had copious chances.
Why didn’t you take them?

XI - The Ending. (23rd June 2012).

Could call this the beginning of the end
because soon you won’t be around anymore
unless there’s a unlikely turn of events.
I won’t say it, what’s the point, you already know,
but it doesn’t mean anything to you,
just some person you used to chat to,
laugh with, learn with.
A year ago since the last time.
When I think about it, we’re both different.
I just write while you go out and play.
Maybe you’ll want to see me sometime.
That’d be nice.
Of course it would.
Just let me know.
Don’t terminate it now,
what am I supposed to say
when people ask ‘who’s that girl in your work?’
Will I have to call you by your real name?
We hardly speak
and then conversation is short.
Whatever comes next,
wherever you are,
don’t disdain the times gone by.
Those other men won’t care as much as I do.
This is not the end.
Just don’t forget.