Hushed beneath the sheet of night, we stumbled towards the end / Of dragging out a long goodbye. I spoke it like a sin, / Almost ashamed of it, afraid to even try. / Torn more with every silent cue, affection poorly made; / Once fresher than the morning dew, now dried up by the day, / All that we left to say with nothing more to do. / Some things I wish I told her that I could tell her still. / Before she goes, I hold her close and know I never will / Unless I wait until it’s far too late. / I’ll decide to settle for goodbye. / There’s always more that could be said when nothing’s left to show. / I could tell myself she never left, but soon enough I know / I’d have to act
as though we never even met.