Ghostly Decline (drift)

Do I mourn you now,
or in encriments,
with each bit of you
you take away
and each teasing hope
that you might change direction
away from this ghostly decline?
Do not drift.
Do not fade
in a silent slippery shift.
No slamming doors,
please, but even more;
no back window escapes
letting bitter winds seep in
through panes left agape.
See yourself; face me.
Give me the mercy
of a goodbye
so I know how
to shut the door behind you;
So your absence
does not haunt me.

(I went digging through old word files and found this buried)