Here, on the inside, we huddle
Lackadaisically creating a
mystery
Casually planning each glance and
laugh
Lights twinkle and bubbles
inebriate
The atmosphere is filling
With a buzzing living feeling
Intoxicating
I watch your lips closing ‘round
a fig
The corners of mine curl up slow
As I wonder why I care to observe
A dried fruit beginning its
degradation
The fig has been swallowed, and I
stand to walk
Out of the door and away from this
talk
Standing alone, below the street
lights overhanging cold untold stories
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