i find her asleep on the couch.
no clothes.
an empty bottle of wine
on the floor.
the door is open.
the cat has run out into the street
never to return.
there's a black bird
on the table eating off a plate.
i sit down
beside her, covering her legs
and try to think
of the words to tell her
that this is never going to
work out.
then she wakes up and looks
at me, smiling.
it's still not over.
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