Not Quite Yours

I light a cigarette and think about how I always wanted to spend Friday night

drunk enough to forget where I come from

with someone whose name I never learned. 
Now I only long to be snuggled up next to my window, aching to have your lazy body against mine as I listen to you talk about your day. 
I want your weekday exhaustion and your Friday night relief. 

I want your sleep drenched kisses, your saliva, and your warm breath. 
I light another. 
Strained voices and muffled laughter. 

I ask you what you’re wearing and imagine you trying to fall asleep beside me, my fingers running through your hair. 
I hear you go quiet and smile to myself, 

put out the cigarette with my fingers and shut the window. 

I then lie in my bed with all of you on my mind and fall asleep to the sound of you breathing.