The Older One Gets

By Rachel Vargeletis

 

Eyes tend to glisten with a certain, familiar

Shine of regret the older one gets.

Wrinkles tend to cast a deeper, darker shadow

Upon their chagrinned pretense

The older one gets.

 

“Sorry”s feel empty and

“I love you”s only feel like a way of apologizing.

The sun hurts more than is ever brightens your day,

And suddenly,

You find your feet sore from

The routine

Instead of bouncing in eager leaps across each room,

Craving sand under their seasoned edges

And wet dirt between their wriggling toes,

The older one gets.

 

Worlds tend to fade into a comfortable

Black and white-

Lives tend to wrap themselves up in a

Cocoon of security.

Hair that once danced freely in the wind

Tends to find itself tucked away.

And arms that once held

The entire universe

In their tender embrace

Tend to cement themselves to one’s side,

The older one gets.

 

The smiles that glazed the soft cheeks of a lover

Tend to form now only

Robotically, laboriously.

No emotion- or an especial lack thereof.

No sentiment, and no passion.

Life suddenly means less,

Love suddenly seems less,

The older one gets.

 

One tends to die before the day one stops their breathing,

The older one gets.

And my question is

Why?