Warm gray roomSilence hangs the doomA small coffee tableAnd in it sat a couple
Drinking coffee out ofHalf 'us' glass, an 'us' mug halfOr maybe one of them drinks teaIt's hard to tell from the steam
I muck up my guts to ask themAbout the bizarreness of this situationThey chuckle, glinting eyesOn each other, then the glint dies
Up again, back to their choresThe halfness forgotten behind closed doorsSilently submit, in their own claustrophobicSpaces that shunned; made their souls caustic..
For the broken 'us' glass and the broken 'us' mug, and for the broken things in between...