The final words are spoken
and there were no goodbyes
but an abundance of transitions –
weary preludes before we die
And now I smoke my cigarette
alone, remorseless and conceited
burning out the flaming ropes
of memory and sentimentality
Asunder like how things end
before they begin – we are
a wound no longer, never
was there anything to bleed for
Norman Santos
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/endings-without-beginnings/
