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