Not the Bedside, the Other Side of the Bed

I keep my nicotine stick, my pot pen, and my laptop on the empty side of my bed like some lonely metaphor of a second bedside table.

My first one is full of things that sit on my chest instead of in my lungs:

  • My alarm clock for starters

  • Books I’ve been meaning to read but never found the time

  • A picture of a passed friend

  • A lamp that is both falling apart and gives off harsh light

  • Broken headphones

  • An unopened box of condoms

  • a bottle of melatonin capsules

  • and a sufficiently dust-covered cup of water

I turn my back to the bedside to face my comfort in temporary satisfaction on the other side of the bed

One day I’ll be able to put all that stuff behind me too as something new takes its place next to me and takes my attention again from the pile of stress on my bedside table

One day I’ll be able to breathe in their— I mean its intoxicating scent and feel peace further than the lengths of my queen-sized mattress

Keaton Goodman