I used to wonder what it’d be like—
growing old with you.
How you might clutch your cane in one hand and my hand in the other
as we hobble down our street
on achy hips and arthritic feet
and how you might forget my name every once in a while
or even that we’re married at all
and you’d hit on me, thinking I might be the one
to last the long haul.
Oh how I used to wonder.
It’s such a shame memory lapses don’t extend to grudges.
That was before—
when our heads were in sync and we looked up at the sky
with your arms wrapped ‘round my shoulders til
we couldn’t differentiate lingering fireworks from the stars
and when we sat criss crossed on the kitchen floor
holding mismatched mugs,
sharing our roses and thorns over
off-brand Oreos and chocolate bars.
Before you tried to convince me that
sarcasm spoken in a soft voice was poetry.
Before the only way you could see yourself clearly
was through my tear’s reflection.
And before the only synchronization was our mutual understanding
that we just didn’t love each other anymore.
I could never lie to you
and you could never tell me the truth
so we sat in silence for 22 years.
But I’m breaking my silence in my will.
I’m determined to die before you
in this race to soft oblivion.
I’ve always known it’s easier to leave then to be left
and I was too much of a coward to leave you in life
so I leave you in death.
And to think I used to wonder what it’d be like…
to grow old with you.
