writing

New Routine

Unexpected hugs and cuddles would be nice,

Meaningful gazes from across the room.

Going new places or on familiar drives;

We don’t do those things anymore.

Now, we are good friends and share a home,

Still have our laughs and fun too.

But this house, this time, isolates us,

It started before the pandemic. But grew.

There is such a thing as too much togetherness

We’ve lost the ability to discover the new.

The sparks only fly if I start it off,

I am tired of being the initiator all the time.

What in the world are we going to do?

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