on Jun 18, 2009
Six months, two weeks, four days
Since the last time you touched me.
Even then, I was not convinced.
I still wonder daily if you’re the man I married.
Our love has dwindled
To empty stares and callous touches,
Our once overzealous need (for each other) replaced by tolerance.
I avoid lingering in your presence,
As we buy time til this charade ends,
Wondering how we got to this place
Where you are as much a stranger
As the man that delivers our mail.