Like a grocery store receipt left out in the sun, your smile fades,
there’s a form of comfort here, flowers placed on an unmarked grave.

We’re comfortable here, two strangers acknowledged with the nod of a head,
I agree, it’s probably for the best if we carry on, things better left unsaid.

A smile, a force - carving hope from this cloud of sadness,
there’s a miracle in the making that meddles in the madness.

You’re the good, the wrong and the heaven sent,
we’re the pieced together apology, lingering like a subtle scent.

Pinpointing tragedy from the point where words leak,
wealth to measure, blood shot eyes and happiness we seek.

We’re uncomfortable now, two life stories merging, our hands clasped so tight,
there’s comfort in the not knowing and not seeing through the veil of night.

A bombshell, a tremor it’s our indecision that makes quakes,
tactical division, invisible revision, there’s no longer a connection that we can fake.

Crumpled can, recycled and worth a tenth of your time,
gather enough energy, digging deeper into this sorrow to make you mine.

I’m crashed in the corner, under a canopy made of blankets,
I feel safe again, a reminder of my childhood filled with chicken nugget banquets.

I’m uncomfortable being comfortable, I tell you again and again through labored breath,
we could be stuck settling, secretly hating one another, a fate far worse than death.