no two people
more opposite than
what we are.
Your waking hours
are when
I'm lying face down
on the bed.
You are already finishing
the fresh pot of tea
that you made,
and I'm just hitting
my first shot
of my daily caffeine fix.
Your side looks like
an artist's studio,
and mine looks like
a lunatic's cave.
Yet I don't know
how to explain this,
but it's everything you do
that is quite the opposite of
what I usually do,
that makes our pieces
fit perfectly
in just the right places.
Like how I feel safe and secure
inside the crook of your arm,
or how the stubble on your cheek
feels perfectly rough
against the palms of my hand
as I hold you close.
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