The left side of the bed is your side.
It’s empty on the weekdays.
With the exception of your outline
drawn in conjured memories.
Like how you play hard to get
when you’re trying to fall asleep.
“Don’t stop touching me.”
It’s 4AM and we’re both wide awake.
We’ll be late to work again
But we’ll laugh about it at the Donut shop.
We’ll dream of running away North
And I think that’s kind of funny.
You’re a girl who still has all of her yearbooks.
Even the one from Kindergarten.
I’m just a boy who sleeps on the right side of bed.
But only on the weekends.