One Art - Elizabeth Bishop 

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn't a disaster.

-- Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan't have lied.  It's evident
the art of losing's not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

** It's about losing a friend, but pretending that it doesn't matter and feeling detached.
 
Ending  - Gavin Ewart
 
The love we thought would never stop
now cools like a congealing chop
The kisses that were hot as curry
are bird-pecks taking in a hurry.
The hands that held electric charges
now lie inert as four moored barges.
The feet that ran to meet a date
are running slow and running late.
The eyes that shone and seldom shut
are victims of a power cut.
The part that then transmitted job
are no reserved and cold and coy.
Romance, expected once to stay,
has left a note saying GONE AWAY.
 
 
** It's really a heart saddening piece of poem. Cruel but true.