you say a thing, i say another:
now we are emotional

this room is not temperate;
the air is thick with ghost conversation

so we wait to feel better, we straighten our mouths
you burst wrap bubbles and i crush sour grapes

can your hands give me the love they still hold?
i am not the same each year, and you seem not to know

i ask if you can bring peace to my mind
instead, you command the waiter to smile

do you see? i am trying to break glass here

now you are taking your afternoon nap
and the thing in this room is wailing

i wait for you to wake,
but you sleep on blunted cutlery

it's that nobody likes talk of fixing the blinds,
so we adjust the curtains

now this room remembers less of light
and do you know we aren't breathing?