Complicated

I don’t ever write poetry but this danced around in my head while I tried to fall asleep:

Don’t tell me it’s not complicated.
Don’t.
Can we please just let it be complicated.
And it’s not just one.
It’s not just that we’re coworkers,
that’s complicated.
It’s not just that we’re 20 years apart,
that’s messy.
It’s not just that only one of us is single,
that’s ugly.
It’s all three, very complicated.
So please just let it be.
Don’t tell me that no one at work has to know.
Don’t laugh off 2 decades between us,
saying you’re mentally 10 years younger
and I’m mentally 10 years older
so we’re theoretically met in the middle.
Don’t lie to me and say your wife is okay,
or that she doesn’t need to know,
or that life has played out in a disappointing series. 
Just let it all be too complicated.
Let it permeate the space between us,
and keep us from being.
Other wise it’s just too easy to touch.

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