VENTS/POEMS

germophobia

You know
I hate
dirt
and germs.

You know that so well,
that you've memorized
the routine to
entering my house.

Shoes are taken off outside
the door, hands are
washed immediatelly
upon entering.

A shower
is highly recommended
though not
needed

and you know
that I'll always
offer you a spare
of new clothes.

And you know these things,
these things that are
my everyday life,
that seem so simple

and so meaningless,
yet,
you know that they are
meaningful to me.

You know
I wash my sheets
and my towels
twice every week,

and you know
how much
I hate going to
bed dirty.

So when you said,
you're too tired
to shower,
a part of me twisted.

Not so much
in disgust, rather
than in a break
of habit.

"Okay"
I said,
reluctantly,
but accepting.

And I let you
in my clean
sheets, that I had
just washed.

I know
you shower
just as much
as I do.

In no way,
am I saying
you're filthy,
or dirty.

Maybe,
I just didn't like
my personal space
being intruded.

The bed I go to
every night
having someone
else in it.

You fell asleep.
As I was thinking
all those things,
you had drifted off.

And there I am,
staring at a man
in my bed, half naked,
sleeping peacefully.

A man I love
more
than I love my
sheets.

I told myself
I'd just wash them
after
you leave.

And as night time
rolled around,
the following day,
long after you left;

I found myself
blankly
staring
at my sheets.

Your perfume
was still
lingering
on them.

My pillow,
of your
soft
organic conditioner.

and my blanket
of your
scented
lotion.

I also found myself
slipping
into
my bed.

Then, I found
myself,
missing
you.

As I took in
and enjoyed
what you had
left behind of you,

I came to the conclusion,
that changing my
sheets
could wait.

I came to the conclusion,
that my 
dirty sheets
were beautiful.