He's not coming back.
Leave it alone.
He's not going to call.
He's not going to text.
There will be no ringing of the doorbell,
No knocking of the door.
He's not coming tomorrow.
He's not coming next week.
He's not even going to come next month.
Years will go by you won't see him.
You're not going to hear his voice.
You're not going to see his face.
He's gone.
Just like that.
With a blink of an eye and and a twinkle of a star.
Flash of light.
Gone.
Seasons will pass but he won't pass your house.
He is now a fiction of your imagination.
He never existed.
He's a replayed cassette tape of a vivid once had.
A chapter you've folded a crease on to reread again.
He's nothing but a memory.
A ghostly wind that overcasts you.
Broken clock stuck on 12 o'clock
He's never going to show his face again.
He's out of existence.
Let it be.
It's over.