Whenever I lounge around on pajama bottom days
I miss the way your torso hands the conversation
Over to your thighs
Whenever I walk miles with heavy backpacks
In directions that are not toward you
I hear you brushing your teeth in my dreams
But I wake to find myself much further from your bathroom
Than across the hall
Still I throw the backpack to the ground
And stretch my legs
Brush my teeth
And slip into bed
Knowing that every once in a while
I will slip perfectly into your complimentary
Curves and bends
Agreeing with your body
And soak up moments to miss
