Three

Three.

There are two people sleeping in my room,

and together we are the parts of

three people who used to love each other.

The room is quiet for a moment until

He starts talking to himself, as I have heard him do

Many times before

And perhaps sensing something, her sleeping

Lips join him, both of them throwing up their

Unconscious voices towards the ceiling, and to where I sit

By the door.

For a moment their stillborn words fight for survival

In these close walls

Until quite quickly, he stops

And she returns the silence

A few moments after.

We are three people, much later, who used to

Love one another.

And now two of us have created something,

With voices lining up like the breathing of a child

Lining up with words on a picture book page.

And now one of us

Is too tired

Of things like this

For him to sleep.