<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=389898" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Middle Aged Lovers, II</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You open to me<br>a little,<br>then grow afraid<br>and close again,<br>a small boy<br>fearing to be hurt,<br>a toe stubbed<br>in the dark,<br>a finger cut<br>on paper.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I think I am free<br>of fears,<br>enraptured, abandoned<br>to the call<br>of the Bacchae,<br>my own siren,<br>tied to my own<br>mast,<br>both Circe<br>and her swine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But I too<br>am afraid:<br>I know where<br>life leads.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The impulse<br>to join,<br>to confess all,<br>is followed<br>by the impulse<br>to renounce,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and love--<br>imperishable love--<br>must die,<br>in order<br>to be reborn.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We come<br>to each other<br>tentatively,<br>veterans of other<br>wars,<br>divorce warrants<br>in our hands<br>which we would beat<br>into blossoms.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But blossoms<br>will not withstand<br>our beatings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">We come<br>to each other<br>with hope<br>in our hands--<br>the very thing<br>Pandora kept<br>in her casket<br>when all the ills<br>and woes of the world<br>escaped.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Erica+Jong">Erica Jong</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=389898" data-title="Middle Aged Lovers, II de Erica Jong" data-description="You open to me a little, then grow afraid and close again, a small boy fearing to be hurt, a toe stubbed in the dark, a finger cut on paper. I think I am free of fears, enraptured, abandoned to the call of the Bacchae, my own siren, tied to my ow..."></div> </div> </div>

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