Our empty room, our deserted street

We intersect, overlap

Unacquainted, but not unfamiliar

It's tenuous, but not uncomfortable

We speak of petty differences, our tongues tied in dialect

In this room, it's always night

All shadows and darkened alleyways

All those songs of alienation and loss more or less add up to this

The length of our sentence simply meant that we convinced ourselves that we knew ourselves

But I only knew a sleeping body, you an empty bed

I knew the cover of a book that neither of us read

We knew of the smoke and mirrors, but not the trap doors

We both "wake up to an empty night and tears for two"