i remember things like the way you don't sit up straight, the way light bends around your shadow, the face of the stranger that smiled when i walked by. i don't want to forget how it feels to have my skin exposed when the blanket doesn't cover my toes or the way it feels to turn over the pillow in the middle of the night. i want to capture all of these moments, as simple or enigmatic as they may be. i want to collect not only the memories, but feelings to which they're connected.

 i'm starting to believe that my dreams are mocking me. i wake up rolling my eyes. i can't move out of this position because my cat's purring in her sleep, cuddled up in the nook my bent legs have made. after ridding my eyes of their morning blur, i can place my focus on the little universe your freckles make on the skin of your shoulders, placing my fingers on the different constellations i find.

so let the sun shine in and i'll tell the time by the shadows in between your ribs and spine

you belong here.

or do i belong there?
it looks lovely over there, but it may storm tomorrow.
i'd like to travel just behind the rain as it moves.
watching it pour onto rooftops and out of gutters, just avoiding my windshield.
i'd rather read a secondhand book than own a new one.
i like envisioning someone else's hands where mine are now.
someone else's calloused fingers turning the pages,
at someone else's pace.
someone else's eyes,
maybe eyes painted the color of the ocean,
soaking up a meaning other than my own.

it's sunday. your skin is warm and your lips are soft. my mind is always racing and racing, but my body doesn't feel like moving. my blanket's facing the wrong way and my feet are cold, but my head fits so well in the nook between your head and shoulder that i don't care to fix it.

a stemless wine glass full of merlot shattered on my floor tonight. my room has a nice aroma, but my feet sting.