I’ve got to sleep on the outside of the bed
closest to the window
closest to the door
it’s crossed my mind
more than once
more than a few times
more than enough times
that it must be because I like to run away
and an easy exit
is a relief

I’ve always liked to run away
I’ve always liked too much space

I’m claustrophobic
by the wall
my heart pounds
like I’m trapped
in
and there’s something so stupid
about how
if I need to get up to *** or get a glass of water,
or stand underneath the moonlight,
barefoot,
I’ll wake him up
and the intimacy of sharing an
"I can’t sleep" moment
scares the **** out of me
because the question "why?" always follows
and I’m not ready to answer that question
just yet -
even though we’ve had ***,
I’m not ready to be that intimate

and
I can’t stand a man
that snores
though it seems like most of them do
and all I can do
is make do
and just lay there, until suddenly,
I’m asleep
but then he’ll move and I’m awake again,
until suddenly I’m not
and then it’s morning
and our breath smells
and it’s embarrassing to kiss
until it’s not anymore
and then I’ll want him to leave
but it’s rude to ask someone to leave
even though everyone has the right to
want to be
alone —

I think

I’m beginning to run away
again.