Bombs Could Hit in Bouquets

i’d rather watch him sleep

than want to sleep

i’d rather write this

and capture him

in nightly dreaming

he yawns

and it hits me with comfort

his purple sheets

wrap my legs in heat

as they connect us

tonight

a cool blue

filters through a dirty window

lights the shadows

in his hair

nothing else exists

nowhere else ought to

be real

i quit and sink into my pillow

my brown hair sinks

into the shadows

of he

and he knows i am there

and in his sleep

moves closer

and puts his hand on my side

he breaths and sometimes

forgets to

his forehead leans

on the back of my neck

i am going to sleep,

and think of this

and think of nowhere else
and tomorrow may be there

but if it is not

then I am okay

here