the candlelight sends no shadows dancing
across the tablecloth like in years past.
deceit drips slowly from your swollen lips.
you pause periodically to wipe it away
with the silk napkin draped delicately across your lap.
it lingers there though,
staining your mouth a most brilliant color,
indescribable but for the fact
that when seen it feels as though
a knife slices swiftly through my heart
like it does the tender veal on your plate.

reflections of fireworks perform tired symphonies in your eyes
before fading out loudly into visible static.
is this the state that you find yourself in often?
[closed umbrellas in the pouring rain
and open eyes in the silent darkness of the subways.]
words tumble from your mouth like fragile acrobats,
and jars filled to the brim with yesterday
line the shelves in your room.