your discontent began
before your consciousness allowed yourself to fear it.
having special requirements for your horizontal state
i yanked the sheets out from my beloved hospital corners
so that you wouldn’t feel a tug at your feet.
so that you could kick my leg.
so that you could slap my face.
so that you could
at me all night long and sleep more soundly.
i contorted myself
sleeping in the living room
and living in the bedroom
shall i count my blessings for not having to bathe in the kitchen sink?
your back aches upon waking
you can’t breathe out your nose
your dreams they all morph into nightmares
blame my carefully selected sleep number
accuse my ergonomically correct pillow
find fault in my way of living sunrise to sunrise alongside you.
revolving mattresses many times over and over and over and over and over and
never did satisfy your REM
replacing squares with rectangles and painstakingly folding them into antimicrobial cylinders
proved unsuccessful at holding your head. just right.
removing any obstacle that may potentially hinder your seven straight hours of smiling slumber was simply
i shouldn’t keep you in my bed.
i couldn’t keep you in my bed.
i wouldn’t keep you in my bed.
say your prayers to the couch that provided you with no more than a lonely and permanent comfort.