I think about your palms pushing through the doorway onto ripped cushions

And next to the photograps packed away

In almost empty boxes 

I cannot imagine someone seeing us now. 

You told me you were leaving in 24 hours but your bed was still made

And you had not picked the strands of my hair off the pillowcase.

You told me there was a storm coming 

So you shut the window trying to keep the neighbors from hearing our screams

Sighing i watch the light flicker – lightening can turn off the power

But we have loved in darkness too long to know

What it is like to see something different 


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