i remember
that one time when you lay in my bed, still,
your head a mess of curls peeking from the sheets.
i smiled, warmed that you had chosen to stay, knowing
that i wouldn't have been able to ask you to on my own.
the movie ended, and
we crawled into bed, the springboard groaning
under the weight of two, the twin-sized duvet straining its
stitches to cover both of our bodies, although in the end
i let you have it, let you twist around in the sheets
like a kitten laying down to nap.

i came up with every excuse not to sleep that night.
loud noises, flight fright, stuffy air, but maybe
i just wanted to lie next to you with my eyes wide open.
my body took in everything: the restlessness, the
quiet moans, the perplexed face that looked very concentrated
on sleeping. sometimes you were so still i would lightly
touch your back, just to make sure you were still breathing.

do you remember?
that night that i looked down at you and cried.
i think you must have known because
when i crawled into your arms for solace, you welcomed me.
your hot skin burned mine,
and your heart beat so fast that i was still, and listened closer
(although thinking back on it now, it could have been
the watch i wear around my neck, mischievously ticking away in my ear.)
in that moment, before i let go out of embarrassment and overheating,
something in my heart clicked-
right then, i knew that i could have loved you.

the next morning, we shook hands, made our goodbyes short,
and laughed about it afterwards.