You’re not the type
To tap along to the drumbeat I’ve started to embed on your bedroom wall in response to the melody that infuriates the inside of my head
Or the type to laugh at a reenactment I’ve foolishly performed from some commercial that was on the tv last week while we were out at the diner
You put more sugar in your coffee than I do; my coffee looks darker, but the cups themselves, identical

Our eyes both equidistantly tiresome
But thoughts; wandrous
Always on different wavelengths, different pages, different channels
Our thoughts veer off and I am curious to know what you think about
Because sometimes your eyes dig graves
Keeping low to the ground
The mutuality in eye contact faints and gets buried
Tucked under somewhere far,
but always seeking adventure, they meet up again

I don’t mind that you never go under both sheets
even though sometimes it creates space between us two
It doesn’t bother me that you didn’t acknowledge the dream I told you I had last night
Because I understand your eyes still feel like they hadn’t woken up
But I was barely awake too

I tried to get you to wake up
You love the taste of coffee,
But not my coffee.
You like the taste of sugar
Was I not sweet enough to create a sparkle in your eyes?