The winter gleam of the sun
off the snow, gray clouds dulling
the sparkle, shined through your window
onto my pale cheek at nine in the morning.
You were laying down as I sat up on your bed
trying not to lean back onto your feet.
Your black hair stood up on one side,
a giant curl falling just above your eyebrow,
and your thick lips parted just enough
to let out a small breaths that smelled like
stale beer and a ****** memory.
I pulled my feet up on the metal ledge
that supported your bed,
resting my elbows on my knees
so my hands could cradle my chin.

I pushed back my hair as I saw you move
out of my sideways look,
you rolled on your back, arms above your head
a false halo made of your hands,
baring your scruffy chest and chubby waistline.

I played with the corner of your sheets,
folding the flap up and back,
your snore my metronome one beat off
of my heart.

You took a big part of me and I'm sitting here
scanning your room trying to see if you
stashed it in a corner or if you hid it
somewhere I can't see.
You took a big part of me.