Forty

Is a recurring theme, some time overnight he crawls into my bed and lays on top of the covers. He pulls me close to his body and falls asleep. I’m never awake when he comes or goes, I just wake up with him wrapped around me and then go back to sleep.

Maybe he pretends that he can’t feel or hear whenever I try to pry myself away, and there’s the smell of alcohol. Not a lot but enough to know that he’s been drinking regularly.

This time I don’t care about his well-being, I don’t care that I might wake him up. He’s smothering me and almost choking me with his arm pressed to my neck. Prying his arm up and off so I can finally breath normal.

He’s literally sprawled over the mattress, fully clothed, even with boots. I should kick him off, wake up and ask him to get out. The bottled-up anger makes me want to pinch his handsome face.

The sun is rising, and the warm colors are seeping in through the open curtain. I bet my good leg that he’s about to wake and for the first time both will