In the ephemeral moments between subtle misery We bite our tongues to avoid our discomforts We slowly attune to glances exchanged in place Of benevolent words that could help soothe the ache We behave in a way that makes us believe That we've grown unfamiliar But the frail disposition of love is so swiftly displaced When left to endure the violence of doubt Slow to atone, a voice I don't hear as my own Hollow apologies The longing for condolence is relegated To no more than velleity We've reprised our roles as strangers, strangers We rehearse small resentments when in isolation Then miss every cue when stood under the lights Quietened tones to conceal our frustrations The same melancholia every night And in our indiference we're quick to surrender The passion we'd lit to help navigate each other Stoic hands dismantle love, and before the light is Even extinguished, we've reprised our roles as strangers Slow to atone, a voice I don't hear as my own Hollow apologies The longing for condolence is relegated To no more than velleity We've reprised our roles as strangers, strangers We rehearse small resentments when in isolation Then choke on the words when reciting our lines Never perceptive to our situation The same melancholia every night