The night of the half-eaten moon
The piping hot decaf
felt cold
as I incoherently,
ramblingly,
nervously,
bad-scripted my words
to perfection
Her words fell
like a ton of bricks
as cigarette smoke
snaked up the air
threatening
to eclipse
the night sky
It was an evening bright
and dark
yet the Cheshire cat moon
still grinned
from ear to ear
because it probably knew
something we didn’t
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