Untitled, maybe

You look somber, the way you put your head down
You ask me not to write about you
And then you take it back
Like it was a dirty joke you didn’t want to tell
But the sentiment is there

And I don’t know how to make you feel good
No matter what I try, it’s kind of one of those things
Where you can’t get your way
You toss and you turn but there’s rationally no movement
Gaps in between pauses
Stained sheets
What makes you feel unwell when you’re not in my presence
What makes you descend into your kinder self when you are
I am a pawn and you are my King and we lie
Adjacent at night
But not together.

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