The Seven-Year Itch

The Seven-Year Itch

Seven years beneath one roof,

Sharing duties every day.

The passion that once burned so bright,

Seemed to slowly drift away.

Morning coffee, evening meals,

The same routines week after week.

Both were feeling something missing,

Neither knowing how to speak.

The excitement of beginning,

Had been replaced by daily strain.

Work and worries filled their minds,

Leaving little room to remain.

Conversations lost their depth,

Reduced to schedules, bills and chores.

Neither realised they were building,

Invisible emotional doors.

Then came thoughts of something different,

Wondering what might still exist.

Questioning familiar comfort,

Caught within the seven-year itch.

Temptation painted perfect pictures,

Free from struggle, free from pain.

Yet fantasies rarely reveal,

The storms that follow after gain.

One evening honesty arrived,

Breaking years of silent walls.

Truth poured out from both their hearts,

Answering love’s neglected calls.

They spoke of hurt and disappointment,

Dreams that somehow lost their place.

Fears they’d hidden from each other,

Tears running down each face.

Listening became more important,

Than proving who was wrong or right.

Understanding slowly returned,

Bringing warmth back to the night.

They learned that love needs tending,

Like a garden through the years.

Neglected roots grow weak with time,

Fed instead by doubts and fears.

The itch was not the end of love,

Nor proof that feelings had to die.

It was a warning bell reminding,

Two hearts to ask each other why.

#Marie381UkWriter