On Fridays our lungs produce strong winds

as we banter back and forth.

We play tug of war with ennui

like a child in a custody battle.

Both of us wanting. But not really.

I light a candle to summon the ghost

of who we once were.

The television melts into the carpet.

The room stinks of mediocrity.

We sink into the corner of the couch

together

either fighting demons—

or embracing them.