Anniversaries

for all
the things that we both know
we don't talk about them

we start talking
about those that we pretend we do not know

you choose the words
like the way you put the right flowers in a vase
at the headboard of the bed,

and i choose the words not to hurt you
we do not look at each other's eyes
we refrain the touch
of the hands

you leave the flowers there
and i look to another direction
there are things that remain
to be done
we ought to

and then the flowers wilt
nights come and go
and then the following morning
we choose again
words, flowers,

we continue
not talking about what we already know

i guess
this is the only way how we can survive
the travails of marriage.

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!