Tired eyes and old moments of flame
Should either be revived?
Little paperback lovers
Held tight by exhausted hands
Wait for warm bodies
And flavored cigars
Open windows with too-strong heaters
Cursed when the radiator breaks
Not-to-scale models of castles
Sunk to the bottom of glass-walled oceans
Matching mugs of cold coffee
(He never drank his, anyway)
And posters that didn’t fit
She followed him into the dark
Not knowing that his eyes could see
And she was the only blind one
The quiet of aquarium filters
A welcome
But insufficient replacement
For words of blessing


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