some nights i walk around – to the other side – and repeat what you have done.
correcting the imbalance, matching the crease, and smoothing the fold.
meet the gesture but miss its meaning.
I think to do it.
most nights I dont return the favor. too false a move – not my own – to do is to mimic.
other nights, the sweet nights, i leave this act of devotion to you.
I love you most
when you turn down
my side of the bed.
buckfifty&change 