The dust in the air
of the unused room catches the sunlight.
We wait for the strangers to leave.

You are tired.
You say to me the same as before:
something in what you say annoys

I am lost
in the impatience of all the things
and yet again you don’t listen

We should shine.
Reflect the glory of a summer sunset.
Instead we argue, fail to see anything, everything.

Life, the list of experiences
passes by. I am angry, you are bitter. 
A return to normal services

As anticipated;
we turn back, turn our backs.
Some form of hatred writes itself into this memory