Afternoon

This moment tearfully ascends
that you and I pretend
that we drink tea to soothe our pretends
likewise we engage in sex.

We need to believe
that summer is what she is
and winter is who he thinks
but I know, you, too well
it gets beyond comfort to ill-comfort

Why can't "I Love You"s seem easy as in plays
Why does "I Hate You"s seem so easily betrayed
Why does the sunlight seem to tease all the frays
and why do you smile when nothing ordinary walks away.

If I tell you now,
that this is heaven
there's no more
will you still love the love of habit?

Maybe I'm too consumed by dreams
but I want to know
I want to see
this gone moment be reprised into something new one day

Please tell me
That this noon will not go forgotten.
Please tell me
that I am, I am no longer a day.