Elegant pretending, talk to me again about your thoughts at night.
You have come into town unexpectedly. We stay up until four in the morning talking, when dawn comes I am exhausted with my head in your lap. I’m sweetly unconcious when you hear keys in the hallway lock, the shimmery jingle and hard clunk of the bolt turning. You falsely assume it is my roommate. When my door slivers open, you are surprised but quiet. The man in the doorway was expecting to creep in, undress, and slip into bed with me. Instead, you are here and I am asleep, a question mark form with your hand on my head. “Shh,” you say, “She’s asleep. Come in.”
I don’t know, but I think that night I sleep alone on the couch.
You two are adults, you figure it out.