Your Warpaint

Saturday, January 20, 2018

Hi. Jealous? Haha, thought not.
In any case, the roses you bought
and stuck emotionlessly in a vase
and set indecorously in the center
of the dining room table have begun
to brown and flake a bit. Wilt,
I suppose you’d say. Fallen petals
as papery as your aging skin, tbh,
and that’s not meant to be a knock
against you personally, but against
aging. Whereas our heart pine
dining set, hand-made by artisans
somewhere in the vague farmland
north of us, is exactly as it was
when we bought it—if not more so.
“A well-wrought thing, though dumb,
takes only a lifetime to become
exactly what it already is.” Bizarre.
Whereas you, well, you’re always
just a bit less than what you are.
So I try to phrase everything
just a bit strangelier than you’re
used to. And you try to paint
your time-destroyed face just a bit
youngerly than I’m accustomed to.
Which makes us a perfect
couple of dopes, doesn’t it?
One insanely cute but angry.
One weathered and keeps dropping
puns. Isn’t this where we started?
It’s where we began. Love you.

• • •
 

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