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Your posters fall off the wall

They tear each other off like oaths

We have aged in this setting

By dint of staying in it

You talk about late dreams

I count the dark circles on your hands

We go around in circles in the corridor

Two fingers away from turning everything off

Broken glass on the tile

We step on it as if nothing

You say it’s okay, that it’s rage

I see the blood in the wine

Broken glass, our beautiful mirages

Who cut the skin in the morning

We laugh too hard to hide the storm

Broken glass, hold my hand

Your cigarettes are burning on the window

You look down, too long

We pretend to be beings

Solid, indifferent

I scream in my head

You scratch your guitar at an angle

We piloted the storm

And there, we float on the thick

Broken glass on the tile

We step on it as if nothing

You say it’s okay, that it’s rage

I see the blood in the wine

Broken glass, our beautiful mirages

Who cut the skin in the morning

We laugh too hard to hide the storm

Broken glass, hold my hand

And if we left everything in the plan

The clothes, the plans, the apartment too big

If we saved ourselves now

Before the ground really lets go

Broken glass on the tile

We step on it as if nothing

You say it’s okay, that it’s rage

I see the blood in the wine

Broken glass, our beautiful mirages

Who cut the skin in the morning

We laugh too hard to hide the storm

Broken glass, hold my hand