The last time we made love
when you got up from my bed
pieces of my skin stuck to yours
and I was left raw and bleeding
in patches.
But you didn’t notice the loose bits of skin
hanging off you
and got dressed quickly.

So I cried
and my body shrivelled inside
shrinking away from the sore outer shell.

Now when we talk
the distance between us is so great
I can scarcely see you
through the haze of past closeness.
In my blindness I am scared
of walking into the
new-born rift
that divides us
and falling and falling…
But then,
the way it feels now,
there’s not too far to fall,
anyway.