We Used To Read Edna St. Vincent Millay Together

The loveless days continue Like a long walk in a cold rain And there is nothing to strive for In these accumulating years That are all the same. I eat bread in the afternoon As dry as dusty memories And journey toward sleep, Ever hoping to rest in forgetfulness And meet her again where we met Decades before this loneliness. I move through the old streets With mindless and unhappy steps, Every place looks boringly familiar But nothing appears home-like or comforting; I exist like an archaic thought That an old man still clings to. Whatever course of action I begin, I stop before I finish; Every stanza I start to write Is a poem I'll never end; It all seems useless to me. Love has departed Without words of explanation And I can no longer derive my own conclusions Aided by imagination; I just have to leave it alone.