We stand beneath tin roofs
with raindrops on our lips
regret behind our eyes.
Jokes become coughs
tinged with nicotine
under gray skies
The others leave.
The rain talks
bursts of shouted sorrows and whispered fears
circle us in haze punctuated by
green converse and red flannel.
Tell me about him.
You recite a story I already know:
walks through the park stretching into eternity,
ragged sedan seats where our lips first met,
late night laughs becoming early morning tears,
dreams spiraling into each other,
falling out of love.
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