We don’t talk, except to argue and get frustrated, just an endless cirle.
We don’t talk, just sit in our own parts of the house, strangers in one home.
The rush of love so long ago, beyond remembering.
You were always on the road, it was just me and the kids.
Kids now grown. Your are home. But can’t overcome the distance
between now and then.
 I wish to reach out to you. To hold you. But we’re both in other worlds.
I go out with my friend. You go out to a movie. I hate your shows.
Get mad when I leave, but you just watch TV, don’t speak at all.
God, I don’t want to just be there, I have my own escape.
I have my own places to go.
 But we’re old, and I see you failing. I see you get angry with yourself.
I get frustrated too, but you don’t have to curse like that.
You don’t have to yell. It hurts me so.
We’re old, and I know I might lose you. All these years of silence.
It will rip my heart out when your gone.

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