everything is beginning to look like you. i spend passing moments carving your features in the grains on my ceiling and in trees in the dark. they all have your eyes so much so that i can’t even recognize rainy afternoons or warm blankets in december anymore because i’m struggling to remember when those things had a distinct identity and didn’t just feel like your chest falling and rising, synchronizing like a clock tick or a time bomb the nights are the worst because they remind me how differently the air shifts when you’re near and how shallow my breaths seem when you’re not i seldom thought there’d be a time when it’d be easier to sleep than when i’m next to you it turns out, clenching eyes clutching sheets dreaming up the smell of sweet sweat and morning breath works not nearly as well but as well as i’ve got right now.