He kissed her somber lips and said goodbye, and then he shut the door in her beautiful face against whatever sanity still nested in his mind.

Out of the starless night that covers me,
(O tribulation of the wind that rolls!)
Black as the cloud of some tremendous spell,
The susurration of the sighing sea
Sounds like the sobbing whisper of two souls
That tremble in a passion of farewell.

To the desires that trebled life in me,
(O melancholy of the wind that rolls!)
The dreams that seemed the future to foretell,
The hopes that mounted herward like the sea,
To all the sweet things sent on happy souls,
I cannot choose but bid a mute farewell.

And to the girl who was so much to me
(O lamentation of this wind that rolls!)
Since I may not the life of her compel,
Out of the night, beside the sounding sea,
Full of the love that might have blent our souls,
A sad, a last, a long, supreme farewell.

This time, I want the hugs, kisses, and love that comes with a farewell … even if it’s a temporary one.” He takes a step and cups my head in his hands. “I want to say ‘see ya later’ and know that it’s not a final goodbye. I want to memorize every line,” he strums his finger across my face, “every line of your face, Alex. When I walk away, I want to know that I’ve made every last second I had with you count.

The return makes one love the farewell

Farewell has a sweet sound of reluctance. Good-by is short and final, a word with teeth sharp to bite through the string that ties past to the future.

Nothing hurts like a hostile farewell.