twenty eight years

we were married

twenty eight years, she says,

looking

at her hands

as if they

weren't hers, but someone

else's.

discovering for the first

time

that she was now old.

the best years of my life,

she says.

well,

at least the first two years

were.

but after that,

after the honeymoon was

over,

we were both

sort of done with the whole thing.

but we had kids

then,

obligations,

the house, the yard,

in laws and friends.

we slept in separate rooms,

i can't remember the last

time we ate a meal

together, took a vacation,

held hands,

or had sex.

it surprised me though when

he left last year

with a new young thing

half his age.

how could he do this to me?

to us?