what was wholly irrelevant
to our relationship
was chronology
but there were moments
the discrepancy burned neon
across the bed
i remember a thousand days ago
ensconced within his apartment
forgetting the world
and the intended usage of furniture
we were making his bed together
my tastes despised
his
perpetually askew
burgundy satin dust ruffle
cringing when the disagreeable linen
dropped to the floor
saying nothing
twice a day i would kneel before the bed
to readjust the thing
my ritual wore on through months
he finally stopped one day and smiled
as he walked by the bedroom door
asking,
“Baby, why do you fuss so over that damn thing?”
serious as fuck looking
staring him dead in the eyes i replied,
“Because, a dust ruffle on the floor is nothing more than a spider ramp.”
he laughed his ass off
walking to hold me
a slave to love
and whispered,
“Your soul is ancient, but sometimes I forget how itty bitty you are…”