Stripping my bed. Laying on bare matress. Pillows without covers. Limbs tangled with each other's. I eye you in periphery. I think before I act. In my mind, I finger tip toe up your arm. In my mind, i push hair behind your ear, golden brown in the dim lit room. I know you'll leave me soon to climb out the window of the bay and start your day with a lecture. Twirl your pen. Doodle our names in the margins of your lined paper, next to the date. You in your thick rimmed glasses, i think of sex and death and memory. I eye you in periphery sitting two rows ahead of me. I write observations on the scene; you twirl your pen, write notes within the margin, look and try to find me where i always sit, next to the collumn. The matress feels rough on bare legs. Chest, rise and fall with breathing. I can feel your heart beating on my arm, trapped under you. In my mind, i synchronize my heart and breathing to your's. In my mind, we're lying on the floor, breathing hard-out of breath, your eyes in mine. Smiling. You only smile after sex.