Not "goodbye," for you can't say what I won't hear;
Not "later" or "again"—you know this separation will never end;
Not "you," as in "I hate you" or "I love you," for you aren't thinking of me;
Not "me," hiding as you are in distant emotions and secret motives;
Not "yesterday," because you can't remember the past and leave;
Not "today," because today you are a stranger, speaking a language I don't comprehend;
Not "tomorrow," because you look at me and shuddershudder at my fear.

Not "please," because you know I can't permit this no matter how you plead;
Not "thank you," for you fear your welcome's worn;
Not "someday," for your message is it's too late;
Not "never"—you did love me and would spare me that pain;
Not "remember," since you hope I will not hate;
Not "forget," since I must be free to mourn;
Not "maybe"—you won't lie to me even in my needneed.

Definitely not "I'm sorry," for you think you're doing right;
Your final word's no word at all: you just turn and walk out of sight.