Where Do Marriages Go to Die

Where do marriages go to die?

It's not the death that does us part

Or any of the sickness or all the health

It's just that one day the lump in the middle of the mattress

that ails you so becomes the part that you just can't take anymore.

It's the ridge, that middleness of the bed,

the in between of where one soul sleeps

and the other soul sews it's skull back together

and kneads it's doughy soul into mounds so that it can get out of bed again the next day

again and again

and suddenly better is worse than the worst you imagined

and it's heavier too.

And one side of the ridge is silent

and the other aching, and neither soul rolls over the hump to put it together again.

It's less loud than you'd think.

It's less clatter.

Nothing breaks or shatters with deafening bell ringing sounds.

It's just that one ship cutting loose from the ridge and away in the night

it drifts carelessly away, but maybe determined too.

Maybe just too sullen to make a noise louder than the lapping of still water, weaving into the shallowest waves,

goodbye, goodbye. So long.

Take care.

Anyway, that's where marriages go to die.

_______________

( And then, I swear. He slept right on that ridge for one night. But when the ridge wouldn't go down it rolled him over instead. And with that, he had done all he could. )