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.