The Last Two People at the Party
By Saywisely
1 min read
Jan 7, 2025
The empty cups, the music's dead,
The host has long since gone to bed.
And we remain, in softened light,
Two anchors in the fading night.
The talk is slow, the guards are down,
The truest words in this whole town.
A sudden bond, a fragile thread,
In the quiet of the things unsaid.
The host has long since gone to bed.
And we remain, in softened light,
Two anchors in the fading night.
The talk is slow, the guards are down,
The truest words in this whole town.
A sudden bond, a fragile thread,
In the quiet of the things unsaid.