We were never lovers,
and we never will be, now.
I do not regret that, however. I regret the conversations we never had, the time we did not spend together. I regret that I never told him that he made me happy, when I was in his company. The world was the better for his being in it.
These things alone do I now regret: things left unsaid.
And he is gone, and I am old.