Evening

I can give you my loneliness, my darkness, the
      hunger of my heart; I am trying to bribe you 
      with uncertainty, with danger, with defeat. 

(Jorge L. Borges)

There there there, in the middle of your crisis, me. I shatter.
But the house'll be clean tomorrow;
the window sets a quiet evening.
There, intrinsic in the broken glasses, crack cocaine and ashes, you.
your eyes film filled with something you call future.
You, I, there our crisis.