as I lie awake beside you, and you allow sleep to qualm your stresses from the day, I'm suddenly very aware of the pillow underneath my head and note how it feels nothing like my head on your chest. I do not mind the firmness of your muscles, or the heartbeat that echoes beneath my ear. your warmth does what this overpriced spaceheater never could, but still I keep my distance. fear of getting too close almost rivals claustrophobia, in a sense. I long to overcome the worries of having nowhere to go but your arms, but I fear everything may crumble should I try to overcome it. I do not want to push. the walls are closing in on you, and you insist I stay away. I would take the risks and hold you closer but I fear my arms would be too reminiscent of the world swallowing you. i do not want to panic. I do not want you to push back. so I keep my distance. so I lie awake beside you, cursing my pillow for not feeling like your chest. I worry the space between us under covers is not enough, and if the couch is a better home for my worry. you deserve the bed to yourself tonight. though this room is vast and I cannot fight the chill this space heater can never seem to pummel, I know I should not get too close. while my fear is being alone, that is what you long to be.