The mattress sinks on one side.
The side where he sits
perched on the end
of my bed
It is a Sunday evening
(which means)
I can only see
in black and white
I sit up on my hands,
shift my body over
and make room
for him
He crawls in beside me.
The curve of my body fits into his
his lips are in my ear
runs his fingers
up and down my arm
He is so familiar now,
I know his cold breath
against the skin
on my neck
I pray that he is gone by morning.
L E T T E R N E S T 