I'm not one for sentimental endings

Gone gone gone, gone
To find herself she said.
I didn't know that she
was lost. I was too content
to see the signposts
passing bye.

A farewell letter handwritten
in her florished script,
Purple perfumed ink,
How could something so distasteful
smell so sweet.

It was not you, but me.
I love you, but I must go.
You are too good for the likes of me,
someday we may meet again,
Who knows what fate will bring.

A mind so muddied that
Thought and reason fail to meet
All I know is that your gone.
I'm not one for sentimental
endings. Not this time.