It Was Never Said

It's grown late, I think—I hadn't noticed...
Perhaps you're terribly busy now!

I'm almost glad you show no pity.
It was never written in my fate—
today, for the last time, I become yours.

Touch is impossible.
The senses that feel are themselves afflicted.
Through beloved melodies drifts
a colorless emptiness.

I know none of this matters, really.
I didn't remember you to say something,
to fulfill some need...
I never sought you out,
and yet why do tears fall
from these eyes, waiting for you?

Even now I cannot fathom it.
I came not to tell you these things,
never once did I say 'stay'—
I made no plea at all.