Things are as they always were
we sit at two ends of one room
teasing each other
with tickles at the weak spot
jesting just enough
to get under the skin
but never crawling so deep
as to upset
the evening
Your impish smile
across the dinner table
is the hand
that draws me home
and my bony shoulder
remains yours to lean on
We speak less
but say more
benefiting from
the silent comforts
of shared history
without the burden
of definition
Then say goodbye
skipping dessert
but that’s alright cos
I will always love you
and I haven’t yet
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