Hey,
This isn't a long one and it's more subtle than my usual works. Hope you enjoy!

Words:
The nights are the worst
Because we can't sleep
We slump on the couch
In a tired heap
With the TV on.

The comforting talk
Both foreign and fast
Lies low on the floor
Lies deep in the past
It blankets the room.

You talk about love
I stare at the wall
The shadows all dance
In hypnotic thrall
I think about France.

In flickering gloom
I daydream at night
You talk about passion
It sets you alight
I'd love a baguette.

In a flat upstairs
Someone plays a guitar
The TV's still on
The audience laughs
A melodies lost.

You talk about faith
And verbally grope
You grasp for the words
I quietly hope
For a croissant with jam.

I imagine it warm
Smothered with butter
You get emotional
And sniff and splutter
About selfless love.

Finally you end
And look at the screen
Your eyes are both red
I see that they mean:
Turn the TV off.

In a flat upstairs
Someone plays a guitar
I think of the cafes
In Rue des Francs-Bourgeois
You think about death.

Thanks!