His and Hers

She cannot imagine it otherwise.
She wakes in the morning and twists her ring,
loves how every night in their bed he lies

breathing warm in the dark and never shies
away. He lets her talk, he lets her sing.
She cannot imagine it otherwise.

One night she’s surprised how gently he tries
to move her arm when he thinks she’s sleeping.
In the night, in their bed, she sees he lies

watching the ceiling long before sunrise.
Too much coffee, too many late nights working.
She cannot imagine it otherwise.

He quiets. The more she worries and pries
the less he tells her about anything.
She’s sure every night in their bed he lies

wanting a room beyond reach of her eyes.
He sighs—she cries so much, Over nothing.
She cannot imagine it otherwise:
Every night in their bed, he lies.