I’m jealous of your bed
For it gets to hold you
In its clutches
Instead of me
I’m jealous of your sheets
They take the place of my arms and legs
And tangle around your sleepy self
That should be me
If it weren’t for the minute details
I tend to miss
(I don’t plan ahead…)
Like work in the AM
Or a change of clothes
Or a toothbrush
I would have stayed
And slept
Sinking into you and that fucking bed
That holds you hostage