I see you in the falling dust, frozen in mid-air, refusing to settle into my furniture.
I see me in the pile of papers, a cobweb of hasty thoughts woven all over my house.
I thought Isaw us in a pair of mismatched mugs that warmed our restless, calloused hands.
I see only an empty bed now, the light from the window only casts shadows from my frame
and I wonder if your view is as dark as mine.