Fitted sheet

Today I tell you that I fear I am a puzzle piece that cannot fit into your life

My corner too worn from poor friction trying so hard to contort, fit into arms that never wanted to hold me

Your eyes hold mirth and guile and laughter

Pointing to the fitted sheet falling off my bed

One corner making a break for it

And we fix it nightly, patiently

We leave the fitted sheets unfolded, the puzzles unfinished,

And sometimes when we kiss, our noses bump into each other

And we laugh.