I never have to move very far
to find you wrapped up in
the white sheets of your king size bed
in the early hours of the morning

most of the time
I don't have to move at all;
I reach my hand out
and it's already laid across your chest,
moving vertically with every
deep sleeping breath you take.

if I happen to turn away from you
in the midst of dreaming at night,
I'll always awake to find you
draped over me
like a bear protecting its cub.

I'll open my eyes and yawn as
you stretch and sit up,
groggily mumbling with
your menthol voice about how
you're going to go make coffee
and that we should get up;
seconds later you lunge on me
and make me laugh until
I have no choice but to stay awake

because how could I ever possibly
go back to sleep knowing that
the man of my dreams is awake
on the other side of this fortress of
pillows and sheets and blankets?

I grab a cigarette for both of us and
you politely take the lighter from me,
just so I don't have to light my own.

we look out your window at
the sunrise on the lake,
and sit in comfortable silence as
the nictotine and caffeine sink
through our veins.


I roll over three times
in my own king size bed
to realize that
I'm not going to find you
twisted in the sheets beside me.

and what a lonely morning it is
to sit outside with
a cup of joe and a cigarette,
without having you
in the chair beside me anymore.

wouldn't it be nice to have that morning together one last time?