I've done this forty - three times
and my eyes are still wet,
moist around the edges, really.
Really only moist around the edges.

I was told,
yesterday,
that I was a true gentleman
as some sort of consolation prize.

I was loved by a woman
then left by a woman
who preferred pigs.

And I wondered if there is room anymore
for gentlemen.
Maybe I'm not merely a relic,
but irrelevant.

It didn't occur to me,
rather it was brought to my attention
that I seem at times too religious.

Huh.

Dating, after nearly 20 years of marriage
is a strange and terrible place.
And so here I am
half way to 86,
half way to being 86'd
it seems.

I can't muster up romance right now,
or say "fly away with me, my darling,"
for I have no darling.
And I wonder if I'm a relic
or irrelevant.
There’s been a time or two
that “I love you” inexplicably crossed my mind with her
but I held it back
before I let it go
at an inopportune time.
What’s the point in making
a fool out of myself?

I have a tendency
for over explaining myself
that I can’t quite shake,
or so I think.