I watch you smoke Neptune for the last time outside your front door
Listening to you talk about music or the weather
Your hand twitches and the cobalt glass shatters in three pieces at your feet, but you don't even look down and continue your monologue
The dry air between us heaves a smokers cough and sighs

In the den, under low ceilings and blurry repercussion
Ciphering through lots of nothing on tv
You settle on some garbage show
But end up kissing me instead

I had to leave at one thirty five
*Someone always has to leave eventually