The Bore of Night

We sat in a booth

closest to the bar,

watching as each drink

slipped from our lips. 

I never liked the taste

of whiskey, but I drank

it for you, it made

my throat numb, I 

didn’t see the point

in speaking. We watched

people pass the bar,

out, into the garden round

the back; I hated being

outside, so we continued

to sit in our usual

spot, watching, never doing;

simply watching life

as we sipped our drinks

in silence. 

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