I Don't Sleep With Ellen

I mapped her freckles with my fingertips. They were too numerous to count, so I fathomed them into constellations only I knew the names of.

She slept like a fairy tale princess, all flowing hair and wistful lashes. Her one quirk, her brilliant eccentricity, were her smiles. Discovered by accident one night, I jumped at them like a kitten with a ball of yarn, spent the whole night coaxing them forth. A finger running down her nose, a breath in her ear, just to watch her face curve into a smile she herself would never see - a smile I told myself wasn't mine.
I expected her to wake, to roll over and squint as she asked what the poking and prodding was for. But she slumbered on, Snow White in her glass coffin.

The other unique thing about Ellen was the fact that she slept - she ALWAYS slept. We would fuck, we would cuddle and she would fall asleep, half on top of me and clinging like a barnacle.
It was unnerving at first, but I grew to like it. She would sleep and I could count the ceiling tiles, make to do lists, and categorize her dreams. I never had to endure morning after small talk, the whole 'what are you doing today' and 'when should we do this again'. I could get dressed in the dark, make myself a snack, gie her a kiss goodnight (or good day, if I put it off long enough).

And then I could spend the day convincing myself it didn't mean anything.

The Past

He said they couldn't marry until the house was finished. So every day that summer, she brought him coffee, then lemonade, then cold beer. She watched while he dug the cellar, then lay down the floor, then put up walls, then raised the roof. And when the windows had glass and the door had a knob, they were married in the backyard, under the elm that had brought them there. When a rain storm blew up during their vows, they said 'I do' in the kitchen, surrounded by family and electric appliances. Thunder struck as they added their names to the family who had started their marriage in the bed her grandfather had built for her grandmother. A rain-soaked sun rose over the labour of his love and the world was a glittering representation of their incandescent happiness.
They should have known it couldn't last.

The Future pt2

River & Indigo
2 peas in a far out pod
Growing up on the back of a Great Dane
With the mountains as their backyard
And a bagel truck as their playground

The Future pt1

I know it's not very nice
but I revel in the looks
the ones when we talk about our plans
The 'is this a joke? Should I laugh along?'
The shoulder pats and 'whatever you say,
You Crazy Kids.'
Or maybe I just log for the part that comes after
the linked hands and shared look
A Promise Reaffirmed

Double Bed

There is something to be said
about a shared bottom bunk
about two hearts beating
on a lumpy mattress
Four hands will fight for the battle worn duvet
but only three feet will be covered

Waking in the night,
with silence you craved during the day,
can be isolating
Much better,
I think,
to have a breath in your left ear

Even if she's on your side

During the day you'll deny
the simple please
Denounce one another as
'Cover Hogs'
Regale the breakfast table
of night time antics
(most of which involve physical violence)

Because what kind of 19 year old
wants to share a double bed?

But when the door is closed
and the lights are off
and two bodies are once more cocooned

Questions are asked & answers are given
Secrets are shared & kept
Two hearts become one
as eyes are closed and minds left to wander
Limbs touch, questing for comfort
and in the soft sighs and quiet dreams
the Truth becomes clear:

This shared bunk bed is like home
a place I am safe
a place I hate to leave

Just don't tell Maddy I said so