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We Used To Read Edna St. Vincent Millay Together

The loveless days continue
Like a long walk in a cold rain
And there is nothing to strive for
In these accumulating years
That are all the same.

I eat bread in the afternoon
As dry as dusty memories
And journey toward sleep,
Ever hoping to rest in forgetfulness
And meet her again where we met
Decades before this loneliness.

I move through the old streets
With mindless and unhappy steps,
Every place looks boringly familiar
But nothing appears home-like or comforting;
I exist like an archaic thought
That an old man still clings to.

Whatever course of action I begin,
I stop before I finish;
Every stanza I start to write
Is a poem I'll never end;
It all seems useless to me.

Love has departed
Without words of explanation
And I can no longer derive my own conclusions
Aided by imagination;
I just have to leave it alone.

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