Sometimes I lie in bed at night
and try to remember
what it felt like to have your body next to mine.
I try to remember,
how we fit together.
A bit awkwardly at first;
A crushed arm,
An elbow in the stomach,
My hair in your mouth.
Your feet outside the blanket.
Monster bait.
Until we figured out how to fit just right.
My head on your shoulder.
My leg wrapped around yours.
Your arm tucked under me.
I remember the nights during summer.
Where the sweat stuck our bodies together.
And I had to peel myself off you and scoot away: Too hot! Noooo! Stop touching meee!
You still found me in your sleep
And held me until I gave in, and sweated and slept.
When it was cold, you stole the blanket, wrapping yourself with it like those tandoori chicken wraps I made you for dinner.
Blanket Thief.
You made my ass freeze.
Because that's the first part of me that got uncovered when you stole the covers.
You still found me. Shivering and cold. And wrapped your blanket covered burrito self around me.
I was still cold but I slept.
I lie in bed alone now and remember.
I remember your heat, your solidness, how your chest moved up and down when you breathed.
My head on your shoulder.
My leg wrapped around yours.
Your arm tucked under me.
I remember how we fit.
I remember how no matter how far I moved away from you, you always found me.
No one steals my blankets when it's cold anymore.
11/ 11/ 2020
