After the party
Balloons wheeze quietly, stoically embrace
The soon departure of their lungs;
The silence is so great that
Pulling open doors
Brings rushing in a life of sound
Like time rewound on tape,
And staler than a kiss at three am.
And we are left, like witnesses
To clear and scrape, and weigh
Our part in this, to search
Among the cans of memory
The happiness of late.
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