I loved you so.
The years of difference
ridiculous in number,
I conjured a potion
to make me young.

But I could conjure the look only;
something skipped in the words,
the intonation off.
Gone were gray and yellow,
lines and knots and stoop.
The inside remained.

I could give no children.
I had little energy
or time,
just decay
with a pretty cover
which was yours
because I loved you so.