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The End

end of love

I hate the end of a story.

The final line of a poem.

Or that last piece of popsicle that always falls off the stick.

There is such a sadness to being no more.

Maybe that’s why we can’t let go.

Even when it is long past over.

We wait as long as we can.

Forever is such a long time.

And letting go means the start of forever.

We look away like we didn’t notice.

We hide.

We lie.

We tell ourselves it isn’t today.

And make believe it’s still yesterday.

Knowing all along there is nothing we can do.

But watch helplessly as it slips and falls away in slow motion.

Like that last piece of popsicle we never seem to get to.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2010-2040 LDJohnson (Dreamcatcher) - All rights reserved, including all copyrights and all other intellectual property rights in the contents hereof.

The contents and composition herein are not to be copied, reproduced, printed, published, posted, displayed, incorporated, stored in or scanned into a retrieval system or database, transmitted, broadcast, bartered or sold, in whole or in part without the prior express written permission of this author.

Unauthorized duplication is strictly prohibited and will be considered illegally plagiarized and subject to any or all damage claims, and is an infringement of National and International Copyright laws.

This composition may have been inspired by something seen or heard at a time or place heretofore forgotten. In all cases, credit has been attempted to be properly given and when so given, shown as a note or in footnotes. Failure to give proper credit is a mere oversight and/or unknown to this author and not an intentional act.

It is intended to reflect an original work of fiction or based upon personal experiences. Names, characters, places, and descriptions of incidents are products of this author's imagination, fictitiously expressed, personal experience expressed either in detail or loosely referenced, or merely the humble opinion of this author. Any similarities to actual persons or events are coincidental and subject to this author's determination.

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