You sleep with one leg jacked up and the other straight out, toes reaching the end of the bed. You wrap one arm under your pillow and the other around your own waist. You have made a habit of pretending to sleep when you watch men who get dressed in the dark.
You forego the outside temperature in favor of the warmth your bodies give together. You can fall asleep in any position. You think love is something that can be demonstrated with numbers and dates that vaguely remind you of a time you succeeded.
As soon as he’s asleep, you take your arm off his chest and turn onto the other side, where you finally doze off and have recurring dreams about places you have never been.
You find something soft between your fingers. It’s more stuffing coming out of the comforter. Everything smells like you. You miss your dead pets.
The room is green because of the green curtains. You can do anything in this light, but when it goes back to a soft white after the curtains are open, you can’t.
You try to keep the covers from sliding down the side of the bed. You didn’t used to have a bed this tall, when it was just the flat mattress on the floor. It feels good to sleep above the floor, over all that new empty space. It feels good.