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