Shoddily Built Things

Hardly traumatic, a simple something,
To keep each other on false pretense.
And I could try, hardly,
To be the things a man like you needs,
But darling, expectations are such quiet curses.
And I will never be that woman in the woods
I will never hold serenity in my hands
Like those women in those songs.
I can hardly be jointed, snugly with
Wood glue and quiet determination,
I will stay, like these old homes we live in now,
Sturdy but settling on a shifting foundations.