am used to sleeping alone.
So when this body,
weighed with the suspension of consciousness
elbows you in the nose,
the voice box in this dry,
groggily snarling words that are not mine, telling you to
"**** right off",
do not take it personally.
Know that despite my flailing,
there is no one in this universe I'd rather wrap my legs around,
no ones chest I'd rather rest my head upon,
no one's sweet, steady breath I'd rather lull me to sleep.
Cause i've had years of lurching upright with a gunshot gasp,
sweating and rocking
to calm my rapid clambering heart,
trying to dispel the memory of dismembered parts protruding from bucket,
crimson blood sloshing,
him staggering after me in the moonlight.
My heart frenetic,
shivering away the rattling hailstones.
But with you in them,
baby, my sheets are warm.
My ear against your breast hears your heart beat pound away the nightmares that have plagued me night after
pounding like "There is no room for you in her head,
there is no room in this bed for anything but syrupy sweet sighs and silky soft snores."
They don't dare creep back beneath my pillow case.
Maybe, someday, I'll get better at this.
But if 10 years from now,
you wake with my freckled back turned to you,
pressed far away as possible in my little twin bed,
know the second my eyes flutter awake,
I will crawl back into your arms.