Your bedroom is always so dark, an empty void. I could really use this line as a metaphor to describe my heart, but I won't. I'm not fond of metaphors to tell you the truth, and you never understand them anyway.
Your bedroom is always so dark,Β Β but not quite pitch black. There's an artificial cerulean glow coming from your clock's display, which is a tad large for my taste. And to be honest, it irritates me some, I like the red alarms quite more.
Your bedroom has a very plain bed, where we like to snuggle. I curl up with you to intensify my persuasions - it's no secret - and I'm okay with it for now. I'm usually the spoonΒ Β and you're the noodle, but we both agree that the pretzel is that much more amazing.
Your bedroom has a very plain bed, on which we amaze each other. The single blanket we lay under, sometimes over, is covered in me, because of you. I always laugh a little, and think that you sleep with me every night, even when I'm not in your room.