january 12


we sipped on peach liqueur and lemonade,
as night fell.
old, comfort music sang in the rafters,
and glasses of jelly-beans
cost £1.50.
an evening of pleasantries,
broken up by bathroom trips,
golden minutes of social recline
with a smartphone and a locked door.
but i saw it,
saw the white flash of deprecation
behind your friend’s shoulder.
in my hypocrisy,
the modern addicts faded behind the classic.


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