Lights Out

You’ve matched your

Navy shirt

With my chiffon saree

And only laugh and nod

When someone acknowledges it,

Gushing about our pair,

Teasing us red and teen.

You walk over to boys

With a glass of champagne

In hand

But not a sip taken;

It’s just for show,

You’d whispered

At our first party together.

It’s a quarter away

From eleven

And we’re all too invested

In giggles and chattering.

But you’ve walked over

To my table,

Carrying two plates,

Asking me for dinner.

You smile and nod

As they tease us

Red and teen, again.

You’ve gone back

To the boys

But not without

A glance back at me

As we exchange silence

Between us.

It’s a quarter past midnight

And we’ve bid

Adieus and hugs.

I take the steering

And you the stereo.

You’ve tuned in

To the late night show

That plays songs

Of my childhood.

It an hour’s drive

And all we do

Is hum and listen.

It’s one in the morning

And you’ve worn

Stripped pajamas

While I chose polkas.

You mumble

Good night

As you tuck yourself

Into bed

Gathering up more than half

Of the marroon blanket.

I wish you the same

And try salvaging

Some of the blanket

For me.

We’re both tucked in

With our back

To each other.

The lights are out

And all that’s left are

Two strangers in the night

That share a house,

And a life.

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