He settles in places,
while I collect all the stamps.
He loves to break rules;
I end up breaking within.
He sewed patches
unto his sleeves,
and I was too busy
stitching my wounds.

He peacefully
lays at night;
I stay awake,
lamenting the sounding
blast of his comfort.

We both end up on our own pillows.
His is a smiling moon.
Mine a pouring rain.