The bed didn’t creak.

The shutters never moved.

The earth stood still every night.

No leg or lip quivers

just the quiet droning of snores

filled the room

separate pillows

separate covers

same bed.

I move out.

And you come over

and the headboard get’s busted

the shower always has two bodies

The shutters shake and break and fall

the earth orbited around our mouths

legs still wobbly on the bus

or the train to work

one pillow

one cover

the floor.

I move back in.

And you sigh.

And settle back in too.

Looking for your separate blanket

You’ll take a shower later

as long as the earth doesn’t move

tumbleweed rolls..