What it’d be like: A Poem

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.