my apartment feels too large without him and my room seems much too neat. i'm sitting on the couch, listening to the hum of a fan in the other room, and staring at my feet, still marked by the blister i got on the day he came and bruise i got the next day, hating that these are the things that remain when he's already miles away. what is love if not that he knows not to wake me when i doze off in the middle of a movie, even when i've paid to see it? what is love if not the fact that i experience a disproportional amount of fret when i touch his forehead and decide that he feels feverish? what is love if not the way that he'll come to bed earlier cause i ask and i'll stay beside him, wide eyed but still, the next morning, the only time i'm truly content to do nothing? what is love if not concern, compromise, & forever residual lust? what is love if not us? it's strange and exciting for us to talk in terms of studios vs. 2 bedroom apartments, atlanta vs. ocala, whether or not a tempur-pedic mattress would be worth eating nothing but potatoes and cereal for a couple weeks. i'm excited to see what the future will bring, to get more comfortable with the thought of all mornings beginning just like this one, eyelids unfolding as he slowly comes into focus, sleeping soundly right next to me.