State of Affairs

And so, what now? Continue to pretend?
Ours that, most unoriginal of sins,
a sign of something coming to an end?
The same old, ancient story that begins
with all that promise, only to collapse
as sunsets settle to a stale routine
and closeness soon accustoms to the gaps,
inevitable, coming in between
the ones that once thought they can be as one,
but realize that they were all alone.
It's over just as quickly as begun.
All that remains is expiate, atone...
You'll fall again, though now you are bereft.
Continue to pretend? What else is left?