The years of my life
drag back on me,
they will not let
me go,
and yet offer no
no place to stand.
There must be
a way to make something
of all the effort.
But I do not know
I cannot cite
the wisdom,
re-count the lessons
quote the truths
that have come
to be my own.
There is what
I feel
and what I feel
I should feel.
What I want to
believe and what
seems to be true
for me.
The exception.
Always called too
too serious.
You take things
too much to heart.
they said it almost
every time they
spoke to me,
which wasn’t
all that often.
Now my husband
says it for them.
I cannot be any
other way,
I say
to myself
as I twist the tie
on the kitchen garbage,
while he irons
his shirts,
oblivious to the
and so unaware,
of how to amend it.
As am I.