I said, “You don’t have to go”
But my bed misses me, she says
“Your bed is new; it hardly knows you”
(And I hardly do too when I say this)
But at least I want to.
She closes her eyes and lays there
I stare at her eyelids
She says she has to go again
And I make up reasons why she shouldn’t
Her hair is in her face and
My arm is underneath me and
I have to budge to get it free and
I’m able to, awkwardly
She gets up again and I wrap my
Arms around her waist and my head
Is listening to her stomach
And I’m so bad
And you keep telling me you should go
And I know you should
Because I can hear the butterflies in your stomach
Slowly coming to a stop
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