The end is always a surprise, no matter how much we expect it.

And here comes the dreaded end.

Or, perhaps, it is a welcome relief.

The yelling climaxes and insults are exchanged.

Hearts, with fresh wounds, finally break.

If this were a surprise, we wouldn't have to fake tears.

And that seemingly inviolable contract that is "love" is broken.

This all somehow seems surreal.

Like a joking promise that is actually fulfilled.

And there is the door you're about to walk out of.

Suddenly I want you back.

Now the tears are real.

Yet my pride won't let me call for you.

The door closes with such great finality.

My eyes blink slowly, as if in shock.

There is no sound. Nothing.

What is there to do now?

Other than resignation.

Other than pretending.

"No, I'm not upset at all."