We were young lovers

Whispering sweet nothings

In a rush — worried about the end

Never living in the moment

I don’t know when we drifted

Suddenly untethered — floating

Struggling to get back — to you – to us

The world watched on as we failed

I think of you — more than myself

In the whistle of the wind

The stains on the wood counter

Deteriorated — like you said

Broken down over time

We treated it right

Sanded — Varnished — Polished

Still — it could not survive

If it had been marble

in its pristine beauty

We’d have been deceived

Until the day it shattered

From the cracks – we could never fix