She smokes another cigarette...
Tells me Megan has bronchitis again.
I listen to her as I type...
Meanwhile, another smoke ring she lets out.

She buries the cigarette,
in the swampy graveyard of past-smoked moments.
Drowns it in the cup,
wishes another memory away...
I am beside her,
not knowing what to say...

"Sleep, oh sleep, where art thou?"
She asks.
I answer - "Not here, not now".

She laughs at me,
I laugh with her.
I hold her dear,
my best friend, my lover.

She abandons the chair
and walks towards the kitchen.
Drawn there,
by her periodic hormones kicking.

I watch her walk away towards her room,
watch the candlelight,
follow her in the gloom.

We talk nonsense through the darkness,
feel the hollowness,
make love to the shadows.

Hear me now, oh dear friend!
Here's another legend, to comprehend...