the inevitable feeling
that this relationship will end.
waking up with a sore back,
showers of residue and cancerous thoughts
an opaque dread, like 4am
when the streetlights stand as dead idols
looking at others,
for a first nubile time
without rhyme, a simmering disgust
you revoke in split seconds
a summer of gratitude, warmth,
green dresses with white flower prints
drinking stale beer listening
to things like rap and the sound of bees.