don't stay

I don't like when you stay here.

I don't like that you take up more than your half of the bed. That you use pillows that are are not for sleeping but for decorating. That you kick the covers off and I have to drag them back onto the bed 10 times over.

I don't like that you make my sheets smell like you. The smell that's hardly there but seems to stay for days after you are gone. That when I wake up I feel like I smell more like you than me.

I don't like that I can't move you. Not even an inch. You fall asleep and you are dead weight. That your arms are much too long and that they pull me and tuck me into the position that is comfortable for you. That I become your rag doll and that you drag me from one half of the bed to the other without effort. That if I move an inch away that you pull me two inches closer.

I don't like that you breathe on me when you sleep. That you don't care that you're sometimes so close that I can hardly breathe myself. That your hair gets in my face and that your beard scratches my face and neck.

I don't like when you stay here because I wake up the next three nights thinking you are still here. I don't like it because I don't like when you leave.