as if frayed brushes,
broken pen nibs,
emptied paint tubes
and ***** of crumpled paper
laying haphazardly on the floor
wasn't enough to show
the lack of love
in our hearts.

we pass by each other
like ghostly strangers
with a vague notion of
familiarity.
we sleep on the same bed,
but we're not sleeping together.
we eat at the same table,
but we're not eating together.

but some nights,
i hear you let out a quiet sob
just as i turn the corner
and you don't know it,
but i've seen the tear marks
on your cheeks when you
silently crawl into bed.