The smoke curls gently against the ceiling
having parted slowly from your slightly parted lips
We both know that it's killing us
as we pass it, slowly, back and forth
(there is no urgency at three o'clock in the morning)
Weightless as the promises of happiness
sold by shameless hucksters
to the quiet, younger, gullible me
and the older, wiser, cynical you
For we have made those promises ourselves
tied them together with bundles of old books
Shared a bed and in the sharing of the darkness
discovered we could still see the differences
in outlines dancing without a pattern
without a hope for reconciliation
dancing in the slow breath of the shared room
to the flicker of a borrowed candle
lingering, beautiful, until it is exhausted
shadowing and foreshadowing the room itself
and you and I and our time and our time
There is no urgency at three o'clock in the morning
there is only you
there is only me
only time can teach us differently
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