There is always going to be that aura

The same stale air

Accusations

All around loss of motivation to even breathe

And we’re wondering when the milestone comes

In a decade or so

Will we still be waiting on last year’s words?

Or are we past that stage?

We’re still going to shift uncomfortably

Remember our tongues in each other’s mouths

And hope to God

That in twenty years from now,

We can still stand with dignity

And not remember any part of this

Because it’s always going to like this

Breathing hot air, steaming up the windows

Leaving hand prints as our remains

And hanging onto every part of each others body in our minds

Till we’re sad, sweaty and sorry

Our redundant inquisitions will linger

Hoping to God

That in twenty years from now

We can still stand with dignity