at two in the morning i am awakened by rustling outside our rental. my arms feel listless because there is nothing for them to hold. they are heavy and light at the same time.
when we first started falling asleep together it took some time getting used to you holding me--my back was no longer bare. my back had been the place for breezes to chill momentarily, and in an instant even that breeze left. you brought the shore, brought the tree spine.
when we fall asleep together i always want to be looking at you, because you feel so real sometimes i am sure you will pinch me and i will feel nothing. but it's you, it's you, soft angles and a belly i shouldn't rub against--i just dreamt about that belly, kissing it, all bandaged up.
when we are asleep together you twist and turn and twitch. and i am afraid sometimes that i can't get you out of what makes you twitch, whatever nightmare that is, but then you turn around and i can hold you momentarily. i relish those moments where i can nuzzle the nape of your neck. those 3-am-or-10-pm intertwined legs. the nooks and crannies which you first offered to me, where we have made our home.