~Truce?~

In a smoky room
My cigarette lit,
I look at you
Still hurt quite a bit.

I look up
Your standing at my table,
With a smirky smile
Like a fairy tale fable.

You take my hand
Into yours,
Ask me to dance
On the hardwood floors.

Will I accept?
This awkward truce,
Or guilt hung around my neck,
Like a knotted noose.

I have forgiven you
For all in the past,
But the truth is out
We would never last.

But can we be friends?
Will this mend?
Or is it too tense
To let the bitterness end?
-AR Broadley

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