Always a departure,
from the all too quick hour.
We separate with the words;
"I'll be in touch".
All too abruptly,
those words prove to be a lie.
Desolate and in despair,
a void and emptiness is left.
Then realisation,
childish innocence leaves.
Grown-up resentment occurs,
those words return to haunt.
Full-circle at last,
revenge complete, hurt refunded.
Perhaps it is wrong to be pleased,
when deciding, to not stay in touch.