This is the last carton of milk I must buy,
These are the final seven days-in-giant-lettered-boxes
I must fill to read like Braille at 5:00 AM,
my eyes too puffy to discern
which advent pills are next.

These are the culminating compliments
we can gift each other,
a thin layer of honey spread across all the pleas 
ignored and barbs spent like careless pennies
we both hope we can forget.