You do not go from me violently;
No, but silently I comprehend that—I must forget.
You do not leave me with stentorian curses,
But with empty pages of sorrow; of
Mute regret.

Now I face the days of losing you
And nights of spite.
But it is indistinct, reluctant, and not obtrusive, almost translucent;
It is light.

No, you do not leave me in bitter torment,
But only a little out of bre...

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