There is the hallway
and there is you
and there is me
and we are sitting
in patient discomfort,
sharing the bonds of an
awkward detachment.
Then
you are gone
and in my mind,
I am too.
We are upstairs now.
We are sharing the quiet.
We are gasping for air.
We are sleeping.
We are waking.
No.
I am staring into the dark
and there is only emptiness.
There are walls
and a cold floor
and distant footsteps
and my own agitated breath.
There is no we,
just misplaced desire
and weakness.
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