dripping poem #8

we are dripping with 40 years of burdens,

love and understanding.

we are 80 years together,

and turn 50 years of pulsing veins in 10.

we are weary and often wish

we’d found each other earlier,

and loosely realize that those versions of us

wouldn’t understand us now.

We delight in our great victories

with humorous trivial shrugs.

We ‘re in bed by 9 p.m.

And relish in hot baths.

Ask the real questions,

and never hesitate to have just one last drink.

In winding roads I worry

we’ll skim off the edge and crumble.

“Imagining what our bodies would sound like

against those rocks.”

His eyes befall off into lush mountain plains,

I am left with scabbed wings, a jealousy, a pain.

He is my brick,

the softness of the tender-hearted.

He is a realm I’ve yet to reach, and I am those mountains.  

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