porcelain.

when i am sick
i sleep in the bathroom.
i find its ceilings to be higher and whiter
than elsewhere.
if one takes a bleaching agent to a porcelain surface
everything can be made clean again.
and that's comforting.

when you find me there--
asleep on the floor, naked but for a towel,
alternately shivering and sweating
as chill or fever takes me--
will you let me stay?
will i remain on that floor wrapped in that towel,
secure in bathroom nostalgia?

or will i wake up beside you
as the next thing i know.
maybe i will crane myself over you
and press my lips to your jugular--
so that i can feel you living in an existence
outside my own.

or maybe i will again feel the stirrings of nausea
and head back to the bathroom floor.