Separation II (1896) by Edvard Munch
In foul togetherness,
We walked weary,
Of weather,
Of purpose,
And of each other.
Mud clung to our feet,
Our eyes did not meet,
Doors you opened,
Were not for me.
My breath split in half,
Coloured the vision a sickly grey.
You stood apart,
Pointing the way.
At the edge of indifference,
I would be hung,
Half-breath
And scarce a tongue.
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