This heavy knit on top of my beating shoulders
weighing me down as the bags under my eyes sag more and more
while they stare directly towards your direction
with my nose hairs picking up the smells of your morning breath
and the coughs and the mucus on top of all the birthday cake you once ate.
for this moment I live
and the moment of the blankets on me and the pillows below me
on top of each other as if making love.
I live
I am not dead.