cut me some slack, will you?
no, darling, I’m not awake
that’s why I’m talking to you
because this is a dream
well what else would it be?
did you think we’d ever
actually talk to one another?
your words run into each other
and into my glass like that
one brandy we like
yes that one
I whisper that I love you
and you’re too drunk
on the liquor of false promises
and I’m drunker on the wine of
melancholy, the cocktail that is heartsick
we're both high on
all the smoke-clouds of foolish
Shakespearean sonnet love
and for once I’m happy
looking into your eyes and
hypnotised in your mouth
and then the glass shatters
the drink spills
and the pleasant dream
falls to the floor