I saw tendrils of smoke rise in front of your eyes,
That did linger and waft around your head like halos,
Some getting caught up in all of your breathing,
Much the same way I'm caught up in your speaking,
Bluntly landing with deadly accuracy,
Specifically demanding intransigent factors flee.
Melancholy stares from across the table,
Your thoughts waiting in line for me,
Each sentence I finish is a cue for you,
To race towards the end where your words are crushing.
My breath is now short as you leave the table,
The room begins spinning,
And I feel unable,
To stop what's been coming for so long,
I've been running in place,
Still face to face with the truth through all these years.
It was broken the whole time,
And you'd be the one to leave the table first.
