Favorite Side of the Bed

You’re on my favorite side of the bed.

I wish I could tell you to move,

but you’re sleeping so soundly—

this is not what I’m used to.

If you were anyone else, I would’ve asked you to switch.

But I find myself putting you before me,

so I ignore the itch.

I feel as though you would do the same for me,

so it’s no thing—

no thing at all.

How lucky I am to have someone to break my fall.

And fall, I often do.

But you’re always my first call,

and I’m always right to have reached out to you.

Your soul is a mirror,

finally showing me who I am

and who I have always been.

And in return, you have let me in,

showing me love in its highest form:

acceptance.

How you accept every corner and flaw of my mind.

How you embrace every little quirk of mine,

and actually present the same.

Who knew I could be so happy

to hear one person say my name?

I could never get bored with you.

Every minute, every day, it feels brand new—

but still like home.

I don’t know how you do it.

Is it that you have made love a permanent habit?

I have, too, and it’s erasing my vices.

So tonight,

and every night after,

I am fine to let you sleep

on my favorite side of the bed.