And when he does not love me anymore, I will build him one last altar, and decide to burn it to the ground.
But will only get as far as lighting the match.
Thinking about how he used matches for something. Sometime. Probably.
I'll brush my teeth, thinking of the gaps between his. How really, it's a great metaphor for the distance between out hearts or something stupid like that.
But in the end, it's not a metaphor, or an analogy. They're just teeth. (That could never quite come together kind of like us)
I will crawl into bed imagining an alternate universe in which we have started a life together. One where I wake up and reach across the bed for him. Get the kids ready for school, which is funny because in this universe I never wanted children, but in that universe, we created something out of nothing. Something with his eyes, and my nose. A manifestation of the love between two people. Proof that it happened. That is was real. And it was resilient enough to breathe life into a world that only offered it death.
In that universe, our hair turns as silver as our wedding rings. And each wrinkle, is a space where our skin just wanted to hold the other person even closer.
But here in this harsh reality, time only pulls us apart. And we will likely grow gray with other people now.