A Life in the Foreshadows

(a gen-x sonnet) 

With subtlety of words sublime converse,  
As our curs'd kind can seemly do at will.  
Perhaps we're bless'd, pronouncing doom or worse  
With shi'lded blow of such poetic skill.  
 
Like Band-Aids or an errant bone's reset,  
Goodbyes should come at last and then be done.  
With every studied line, demons beset,  
Such dread that seeming slow farewell's begun.  
 
But standing in such penned foreshadowed darks,  
With little more than reason to discern,  
The slight illumined path which she embarks,  
Will she have slipped and gone when I return?  
 
I know that we, like all, will find our ends,  
But if she goes worse shadows will descend.