A date

The city's full of light

But it's all artificial.

It sometimes brights delight

But all in all it is a fiction,

A made-up story for borth of us.

I pretend to be late for a bus, but you already know

The address of my place.

I don't own the keys,

Not a single thing there.

Why would I care?

I say I have to cram for a forthcoming dissertation,

However in fact

You're the key to all my connotations

And you know it too well.

Too many white threads out there,

As you might say.

I share my life plan with you and you laugh -

You know how tricky life is at times,

But we stay at a bar where we dance to the piano chimes,

And people recognize you

As everywhere else

But you keep listening

To my poetic wells

As if it was the best set of evening news.

The night is full of romantic hues,

And we sit by the river,

Exchanging memories and jokes,

Slowly falling asleep,

Wishing we never woke.