You climb into bed

Beside me, from the end

Of the graveyard shift.

Tired of protesting, I listen

To your mumbles descend into snores,

And trace your lines with my eyes,

Watching your nostrils flare.

“I just want…” I whisper,

Into the silence.

I don’t know what I want.

You sling your arm across my rounded

Belly, and I grip your wrist with both hands;

Afraid to let you go, I could rub the fur from you,

I could love every single part of you,

Broken and used,

But I know you don’t want me to.

Your breath weighs heavy

In the room, and I draw my knees

To my chest, pressing

My back against the cold blank wall,

The clean slate that morning offers

Us, day after day.


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