Like the moon

You sleep and I watch the moon travel across the sky outside an unfamiliar window. I keep one vigilant eye on it but I can’t track its invisible course and yet when I look again, somehow it has moved. This is also the way you move through my mind. Always some newfangled place with unforeseen depth, slow like our collective death and just as palpable, just as beautiful.

You are gone, the moon stays and it looks the same from one fortnight to the next. Its ugly pale surface turning slowly away from me to hide in the everlasting dark. And as it twists to gaze upon other octuplets of limbs strewn across a bed in another room somewhere, I lose the places that were touched and felt, the kisses exchanged like vaporous currency.

You are gone, the moon stays and I stop watching.