Time Part II

"How about you take them back"
he asked. Knowing her reply was
"No". But he had to ask; knowing
they secretly longed for intangibles
that he could never provide.

He had treated them well. But they
had grown tired of his "simple ways",
those boring mannerisms. He was set,
a dull granite fence. He saw the holes,
lined so evenly in a calculated row.

Similarly, he had lost his fondness
for the bright sparks of youth that
upon first experience burned his loose
eyelashes. And now it burned
small holes in his old, anemic fingers.

But he could not tell her that. They
had approached a point in life where
the youthful spring had blackened to
a sick stew of malice, pain, and anger.
And so he stood, nodding. Words

just another cheap coat of gray paint.