I think...

You’re going to leave.
You’re going to tell me that it’s getting hard
to be my friend, or rather to be just a friend.
You’re going to tell me you didn’t want to do this
but the hurt has got to stop.
You’re going to tell me I’m strong, and that I’ll be fine.
You’re going to leave when you promised you wouldn’t.
Well. I think I’ll get over it.
I’m used to empty words and people leaving.