"When are you going?"
"Soon."

Soon you'll be gone
and I'll be left to long,
alone, but for the song you
once owned which belongs to
me now.

Soon you'll be gone,
and the messages you will receive
will mask my panic that I'll
never retrieve you again.  
Left so small and rotten.

When you do return, will you still want me then?

Soon you'll be gone
and those who wish to greet you,
who are going to meet you.
They'll love you as I have done
and they're the ones that you'll now
become 'one' with.

Soon you will be gone,
leaving me to be, less than
I have been. Less than you
have seen.
And you-
I have learnt that you'll find someone better.

Soon you will be gone,
and I'll be left to sink,
blinking hazily up at the
lights of the night sky
which you once helped me track.
Haunted by the ghosts of all that
I have lacked.
Yet again.

Soon you will be gone.
I will carry on, though I
hope that I do not have to
without you.

I don't want to be alone
left to roam, with search lights
yet again.
I'd rather trace a happy smile
with my pen, then stain the
paper with my pain.

But, soon you will be gone.
Then I won't belong.

Again.