Last Night

Irish whiskey
and Irish beer,
it would be a cliché
but the bar that served us
was dealing in clichés
and bad music
and shitty aesthetic.

But what can you do when
you just need to
do something on a Friday night,
So that you don’t have to
stare at the walls anymore?

When we left the bar,
fog clung to the streets
and I remarked that
I loved the city
and that walks home from the bar
were something to love
when the city made itself beautiful
seemingly just for us.

You were beautiful too,
and last night
I looked at you and knew
that I still loved you.

Then I lit a cigarette
and thought of the two of us
not being together
and the fog swirled
as that reality settled in
for the thousandth time that night.

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