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tousled bed. A soft
cloud
of pillow lures me toward
dreamless
sleep. As I sink closer to
oblivion
I breathe Trey in, desperate
inhalation.
I want him beneath my skin,
held
fast by my bones,
absorbed
by my body like
oxygen.
“Please don’t go.” A slow
exhalation.
I won’t. He is tender,
warm.
And I believe him.
But of Course
He has to go.
I wake, knowing this.
He is sitting by the bed.
“I don’t want you to go.”
I know. But I’ll be back
in a couple of weeks.
I have to think why.
Oh yes, spring break.
I talked to Brad and told
him I’m okay with you two.
