Nothing so melodramatic.
At first you won’t even notice the tremor
when one of us speaks, or the hair-line cracks
in the light between us: then watching it crumble
takes days you can’t take your eyes off
the way some people can’t see through a screen
or prefer not to. I wear grey
to blur at a distance, assuming I get that far,
and no make-up to make it look interesting. Then I go
little by little, testing the air for anger, your eyes
widening, the ground could give way. If you call me
back, I’ll deny what I’m doing
as you knew I would. We’re safe with each other.
Even at night: we stand by the window together
as the last little pieces of light fly apart, and we talk.
I agree with whatever it is you were saying.
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