So this is where love dies
in small well lit restaurants with clean walls and bad food
then this is where love dies
talking quietly to itself
hesitating
unsure if it will be heard
and if heard, listened to
It is hoping not to offend
with patient eyes and humble spirit
it is flaccid bland and content
it is calm and reasonable
without passion, lust, inspiration or epiphany
without hate without anger without thrill without color
it is wading in grey
waiting to live and waiting to die

This is the place where love dies
mired in grease and fear
this is the place where people forget to breathe
and find contentment in mediocrity
this is the place where things are just ok
where you smile and nod, but never speak
this is lost in dry skin and sweaty hands
this is the first date that is already the 25th anniversary
this is old and dead before we've begun
this is dull, and unexciting and I hate it all
bare walls, bad food, and two people who have never known madness or love
who have never danced at the edge of the world
who are content with that
to remain so tepid and untried

I am suddenly sick
and I don't know if it's the people or the food.

AcB 04.26.01