I am slowly slipping out of myself,

out of love or something else-

disenchantment reigns.

The eyelids are lazy,

the skies are hazy,

and the rain slides down currents in the air

making tears run on your face in tracks

worn thin from wear and tear,

but I am armed to the teeth

and light two cigarettes at once;

our spirits may be dampened, but our defenses are not.

The stairs climb before us,

our feet lifting like the world has tied on bricks,

but our soles lighten with every step closer to my room-

there's a whole world of bed with our names all over it,

and the pillows are already shaped to our heads.

I'd say it's worth the wait.