There is a place for me somewhere
and it is in a room
where your toes curl, retching
out of desire.

I envy the blankets that hold you
when you are asleep,
you crease their most innocent places
mumbled secrets into seams.

I feel I am an alarm clock
waiting to go off, to watch you rise
for morning air to bite
your skin uncovered once again.

I do not need a place in your heart –
rather, a seat in your bedroom.