lonely week

This bed's surface leads only to its edge. I traverse it looking for you. If it were round I would orbit it. Trying to find you. Listening for your breath. Breathing for your scent. Seeking something warmer and harder than the soft give I find. Hunting for you. And your sleep. It makes mine sounder. Your solid puts me at ease. Your solid warm hard that mostly loves makes the bed a place I fit. Not wander.