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 breath—
You go with solitude, with sadness, but
Not with death.

You do not leave the way I’d hoped you’d stay:
Profoundly, perpetually; though I do not inveigh
Against you. I once longed to keep you purely, and truly.
And, so, perhaps you go this way because I’ve understood I could not bear it if
You went from me cruelly.

Because of—or in spite of—how much I loved you,
You leave me with grace.
A half-spoken goodbye; a forgotten reminder of your
Beloved face.

There was so much that I cherished for you, and
Unimaginably beautiful words you made me want to say
That when they no longer had anywhere to go, they simply got up and
Walked away.

And it brings me pain; it brings me so
Much longing and loneliness I did not know—
But it is not brutal, it is
Slow.

Oh, darling, now you leave me so quietly,
So quietly, I’m still waiting for you to say it isn’t
So—
But in the end, you don’t go violently from me,
You just
Go.