the clues

when the end
is near
the conversations
get shorter
and testy.
she suddenly hates
what you're reading,
your taste
in clothes
and food are mocked.
she laughs at
the butter in your
refrigerator.
sex becomes an
infrequent favor
with the words
are you finished
yet uttered with
annoyance.
there's no more
honey bun,
or sweetie
pie, no sweet
dreams, or drive
safely,
call me when
you get home.
she leaves that piece
of lint
on your collar.
all that is over.
they are what
we call clues
in the book of love
ending.
a day without
communicating,
becomes two,
then three.
if a week goes
by, you might as
well delete
the number
and take her
picture down.