The Bus Home

For a special someone- not like that, but the feeling is no less intense for being purely platonic

We are stacked
Shoulder-shoulder-head-head
My head is on top
You are not the most comfortable pillow
But I do not move.
You are asleep.

There are Japanese stories
Of people cutting kimonos
To avoid waking their lovers
Or their cats
You are thankfully neither of those things to me
But I still sacrifice my comfort for yours.
You are asleep.

I look out the window at the moon
And back at you, so similar
Pale and spotty and grandiose
The moon has been patterned the same
Since humanity's inception
But we still paint it anew
And do not get tired
You are as still and bright as the moon, for now.
You are asleep.

The bus wheels clatter over a bump in the road
Bothered by some half-experienced sensation
You shift and lay your head
On the blanket in my lap
My neck gets a rest
But now my legs are at odd angles
No matter.
You are asleep.

You are rarely this touchy-feely while awake
And when you are you usually won't admit it
But some part of your mind moves you closer
And I lift my arm to allow you this
Setting it down on your back
A sort of embrace
You don't hug much.
You are asleep.

Even in this there are rules
I want to hold your hand
But it would be unfair
Since we don't do that while you're awake
I grab it sometimes to look at your veins
But you usually flip me off and chuckle
Or arm wrestle me and win
I leave your hand be.
You are asleep.

I don't really know
If you want the same things I do
Vis-a-vis closeness
I am characterized by want for your attention
And you give it
But I don't know if you want mine so fiercely
Or just like to be around me
In a much chiller way
You seem to want closeness now
But maybe you are just exhausted
And I am just conveniently warm
I don't know.
You are asleep.

Like a chewed-up bite of food
Words have been sitting in my throat
But sometimes there is a moment of stuckness
With food
Where I can't swallow or chew for a few blockaded seconds
So I just hope my throat figures it out
Before I choke to death
The words are
iloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyouiloveyou
And I have swallowed them often
I write this poem in my head instead
Because you can't hear me.
You are asleep.

When I have to wake you up
You are confused
As to how we ended up here
Your familiar bleary-eyed scowl returns
Because you are beyond tired
And you shift back to the confines of your seat

As if embarrassed 
I miss the body heat
And holding your head
Which contains your brain
Which contains you
Even when you are asleep.

The bus rolls to a gentle stop

As moments tend to do
When we disembark 
I pause for a moment
Almost speak my words
And swallow instead.
"Good night," I say
And you nod
Slowed by a thick glaze of Time
So I go home
And write this down
While you are asleep.

Author's Note

It's been a long time since I've been here, but sometimes an experience needs to be addressed through art - thanks to anyone who reads or reviews this, but it's not meant to be a masterpiece, just to capture a moment