Well good

I wrote our end right smack in the middle of things, 

and I think that was stupid, an omen maybe. 

I was better at spelling bye then saying it – nothing good about it. 

Regret is a stupid emotion to go to bed with—cold, fingerless.

A period to the question mark I didn’t want answered. 

I don’t know the last thing I said to you. It’s annoying. 

I think it was something a long the lines of “your hair’s stupid.” 

Let’s hope I’m remembering that incorrectly. 

I had a hard time believing you would ever leave, 

you started to become a fixed entity. 

Built within the columns, the marble, think permanence: 

here stay remain see you soon later now never here here there 

you’re there now and it’s the end and i keep writing beginning poems, 

continuations, leaving ellipsis like trails to my bedroom 

but you know where to find me. You’re just not looking 

well good...