Sometimes I imagine a tiny apartment with one window and a mattress laid out on the hardwood floor because I had nowhere else to put it. I imagine paper scattered across the center of the room, scattered and messy and I don't know which story is which but they've all been written on to the point of madness.
Sometimes I imagine a dark room with a few lamps because the overhead light blew out and I haven't the height to replace it. And I imagine books scattered about because the bookshelf I own isn't big enough to hold all of them and I haven't the money to buy a second one.
Sometimes I imagine you and I and a mess of comforters and sheets and two pillows that just don't fit right on the mattress because we can't sleep without moving and one pillow is tilted toward the ground while the other is beneath your head and I'm curled in a ball with my head on your chest.
Sometimes, I imagine you.
And sometimes I imagine us in that room.
Sometimes...I just imagine.
So can you hold me tonight?
