My Spouse, the Dreamer

You dream
so many things.
Leaving me
to hold my tongue
and confess
I don’t believe.

Because you dream
to cope,
and I dream
for direction.
You, to imagine
meaning
to your strife.
And I
to put a place
to strive for.

You don’t remember,
I can’t forget.
That I
in my weakness
can only do
so much
until I
better fit
the mold
of our time:

Independent,
free,
and childless.

They have money.
Their dreams are real.
You and I?
Oh, love.
You and I
have no such luxury.
We
have sacrificed it
for the life
of someone else.

But should
I dare
to whisper this…
I’d be
what
was breaking you.
Not the wife
I claim
to be.