the pleasantries
weren't put aside
as much
as
they were
tossed;
abandoned.

and the open hands
became bricks

because the failure
had become
too much

and the honesty
was easily
pushed around,
quick to load
into
that gun

we had eluded
regret
for the time being--

it was outside
flirting
with a sunset,
counting
birds
on a wire.

NB @ 6:29 AM

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