I left you a gift
on the coffee-table.
It wasn’t much.
I didn’t want to wake you
with my exit,
but it must have been
hard to stay asleep
while the birds were chirruping
their insomnia
loud against the night.
You smelled the tension
hanging low,
started awake.
I couldn’t explain, didn’t
want to explain.
You closed your eyes.
I left you sleeping,
and my sanity smouldered
on the coffee-table.
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