Every day, paper and coffee, at the table
Sitting as close as lovers, as estranged as strangers.
Our children talk as if our lives were fables,
And I turn to you, and wonder who believes it's true.
Every day, we smile by reflex in mornings.
Every day, we sit in the same places, and repeat
The same phrases, neither of us mourning
Who we used to be before we were you and me.
We gave up love for contentment,
Pedestrian friendship all that is left in the end.
I hid all the Valentines I never sent --
When I see you I don't see how they're true.
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