we talk long into the night
finishing a bottle of wine.
we say bitter things to one another,
words
we'll regret
in the morning. but it's truth.
the love is over.
what was
never was, we were passengers
on a train
going nowhere.
each afraid to get off. each staring
out the window
at others
at the station, also
hoping for the courage
to move
on with their lives.
we make no plans though to
do anything about it.
we sleep on it, and another
day
turns into another year.
the wind of time pushes grey
into our hair,
deepens our eyes.
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