When did we last make love?
Or kiss, or make eye contact for than one second?
I’ll own my part: I am afraid I have bad breath.
That’s never bothered you before.
But – this is new:
I’ll not give myself over to you without a sense of safety
To give myself over to you would be to again become vulnerable

– and that –

– not without a fight.

But you do not fight well or fair.
So the making up is less rewarding.

Oh what I would give to never again hear or say, “I’m sorry about last night.”
That’s all well and good, but you seem to think that’s enough.
Is it?

My heart is rended.
And I still hold longing, which you either cannot see, or care not about.
First, it was late nights at work.
Then, exhausted you sleep with children or on the couch
Then, late nights in the flickering blue light.
Nonetheless, I am alone in bed.
Though I wake you, you do not join me.
I cannot compare to that screen, for it asks nothing from you.

You do not care.
We do not talk.
I do not trust.

The chores you said you’d do… again remain.
Ad infinitum.
Your word is paper.
Like those vows so many years ago.