The last night I saw you
in the silence of an almost empty house, both of us weary
stretched thin, our skins slightly transparent
My mind was still partly upstairs, amid the new-pack'd boxes
Perhaps I was sorting you, too
Like a techtonic shift, new sides of you began to surface
I floated calmly in the dark, across a wide expanse of sofa from you
and as we built words in the stillness
there was the disconcerting sensation
of being separate objects
travelling at immense speed