Not a thousand years, not lifetimes

Between you and I. Just 30 years

And I see you

As a teacher instead of a partner,

as embers instead of a fire.

All that passion you felt

Ages ago, will never be spent on me.

The fire that lit in your eyes then

Won’t even smolder for me.

No amount of shared joys or grief

Quiet conversations or dinners

Will rekindle it

or span the gap of a generation

Much less an era.

How meager a love must reside in us

That we would choose pleasing untruths

With a living true love two doors down

And thirty years away.