Inhibited - they told us so.

We developed an addiction,
A passion for repression.

High on the narrative to stay cohesive.

A decade later, I fluster -
To the sound of his home keys,
At his messages I freeze:

He puts a nose on his smileys,
He calls me things I don’t believe.

The vinyl keeps on playing as I shower,
I agitate with blue liqueur,
“Those jeans could’ve been bluer.”

Now time gets tighter and norms heavier,
We wish we'd grow younger.

He still calls me beauty,
Willingly joins my company.

But as tasteful as painted blue,
That room gave him flu.