An Old Man Laments Poem by Not Long Left

Too long have we battled through storms
made by the force of our finely matured anger.
Often have we scooped up the shards of our
broken dreams that have been shattered by
the sadness of our reality. The three things
that kept us together have grown, have spread
thier wings and have flown onto some life new.
Before the shutters opened and we saw inside
each other, cursing at what we saw, I would
spend the nightly hours watching you sleep.
I always loved you most then, your uncontrolled
movements or your settled little sighs.

Yet now as you sleep I spend those hours
blurry eyed watching late night, low budget
sex movies, lusting after the black vixen with her
shimmering river Nile legs. Until the stirrings of
shame rise from below and scold my thoughts.
I am to old for this. So I slowly rise, hauling my
brittle frame with me, grope through the darkness
and put myself to bed, before wiping the spittle
from your bitter bloodless lips.