Last night we signed the death certificate of our marriage.
Cause of death: Emotional abuse.
The patient had been sick for quite some time.
The passing was not easy.
From time to time
we drew unreasonable hope from numerous short lived remissions,
though in our hearts we knew the condition inoperable.
Soon we shall announce to acquaintances and relatives of the dear departed,
the untimely demise of our oldest friend.
We shall place within the personal columns of the local press
our last farewells to one we have long loved, and shall promise never, ever to forget.
This promise we shall keep
we are distracted
by more important matters
like pay cheques
or poems or tonight’s episode of Star Trek.
To the funeral
we shall invite
all who loved our former friend.
And they will eulogise;
and patronise the widow and the widower.
And when the words have all been spoke
And when the tears have all been cried
And when the wake is gone and done
we two shall stand,
and reach out across the open grave.
Without a word,
and choreographed precision,
that elegant, unconscious coordination born of twenty nine years of partnership,
we shall stoop to clutch at handfuls of soil
casting them down upon the coffin lid,
sadly shaking our heads
at the death of immortality.
Then shall we turn,
each to our own way,
to gorge ourselves on hopes and dreams;
ethereal, insubstantial mirages of happiness.
much, much later,
we will think upon this day when we chose to walk away.
And only then will we realise
that the dear departed lay,
heart faintly beating,
finally to expire
in a dark and lonely grave
while we covered
our ears in stubbornness