What My Roommate Doesn't Know

He doesn’t know I watch him sleep.

Not on purpose, not with knowledge,

my eyes just find his side whenever I turn

upon my dorm bed.

Four feet separate us,

a cavern I can’t seem to cross.

Spanning the Grand Canyon

would take less effort,

less fear,

then those four feet.

His duvet outlines his legs,

wide shoulders and tapered waist.

He doesn’t know how I’ve dreamed

of sliding my hands across it, freezing

his bare skin with icy fingertips.

I switch positions,

face the wall,

hope these thoughts fall from

my head as I slip into sleep.