bedtime stories

smack! pop!
another opened beercan
ends the quiet.

i'm alone
in
bed, waiting.

the house is black
except for you
and
the lazy boy and a busted TV.

wide awake.
eyes pinched shut.

i never told you this, but i can't
sleep until
you're
next to me:

breathing your
unbrushed liquor
breath
around the room,
like an overworked engine.

it's a bit silly.
i agree.
and
i really would like to know
why i stay, but i do.

and
its been 2 months since
you've kissed me goodnight,
a year, since
we last slept together,
and forever
since i remember thinking:
i love you.

but you're still
my
bedtime
story.