Uncoupling

We sleep with our heads

turned away from each other,

mine facing the windowpane

steeped in grey winter sky,

gazing into a horizon of nothingness.

His immersed in a window of opportunities

unraveling in his phone;

Tabs slicing into new tabs

as tidbits of stocks, jobs, and real estate

clutter his phone with dizzying speed,

unmoored,

much like the thought ribbons inside my head.

Every few minutes, this silence is ruptured

by an excited realization

or a scornful comment---

a verbal instrument of care.

Every few minutes, I offer him a nod

as a sign of my presence---

nay, existence.

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