How to Break a Legacy

The sun has set long ago,
and 11pm finds us on the back porch: starlight, yes, but mostly the neighbors' floodlight.
I wish we could talk more often: my brother, his wife, and I.

Tonight my brother and I ask, how long did they make it?
-Six years.
-No, they separated after four, divorced after six.
-So they made it six years.
-No. They didn't.

-They made it longer than my parents, his wife interjects.
-How long 'til they divorced?
-Four years, almost.

We stop talking, because we did the math.
And we all know these two have been together for eight years.
And we all stay stopped,
Because our hearts are broken.

We catch fearful gazes: paralyzed
Suddenly faced with a decision to either stop now,
before it gets worse,
or keep going into the unknown.

But we breathe again,
because we all know that quitting was never an option.