by Edward Lee
We dispensed with language
for a few wet hours,
until, allowing words
into the hotel room,
we realised
we had nothing to say
to each other that
had not been already said,
except, perhaps, goodbye,
which we did speak, returning
to the separate lives we lived
so unsatisfactorily, our few hours
enough for us to endure
a love that was both enough
and not enough
for another year or two.
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