She’s there, in your bed
again, and you didn’t ask for it.
You didn’t tell her not to,
not this time,
and you know that from your chipped nail polish
to your cracking lips,
your body wanted her there too.
You think there was maybe
a time when you had potential, a time
when loving her was like the kind of talent
that you make your college major, before you realize
all too quickly, that it can’t turn a profit.
Eventually life makes us all dismiss our dreams.
She’s sleeping, and perhaps you should be
too, but it’s easier to breathe without her
body so close to yours.
She reaches out her hands like a lost child
seeking her home.
Maybe, if this had gone differently,
you could have loved each other better.
Maybe, you could have even been good for eachother
in a way that makes sense. But she never
makes sense, and you have no sense when
she slips her hands into your back pockets and whispers
into your ear that it doesn’t matter who’s