this is what i mean/2

by poems & doodles

when i tell you
i love you

what i mean is
please make the bed.

because while you sleep
i lay awake
in the little hours
that creep in after midnight

and during the minutes
that hide in the corners
of our pillows and
wrap themselves
around the flood of orange
streetlight that leak
from our
crushed blinds
all i think of is
how much you complain
about how bright it is
before bed.

and my feet move restless
wrapping themselves
around themselves
wringing over and
over, pink and
raw.

so in the morning
when you find me
curled in the smallest
corner of the couch

and i tell you
i love you

what i mean is
      please make the bed.

flip my pillow
because it was damp when i
left it

and straighten the sheets
so i forget the way
my feet crumpled
the covers
when they wanted
to leave
clammy-footed prints
moving the rest of me
away from

this bed.
this room.
and everything
in it.

and stop complaining
about broken blinds.

please
just once
notice the light
leaking
from me.

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