I am not your enemy

Footsteps underneath my bed
I hold my breath
I check the driveway for a sign

I count the layers that I orbit
being sure not to touch
your shoes on the ground
or your letters from your church

Sorry and thank you
well rehearsed well before
in case I may collide
like a country mouse on the subway

Whispered phone calls while you laugh
you're always laughing
and always stern and unhappy

I heard you leave out the door
I bring my paper and my pens
I pour myself a glass
now I am home

I play my music
phone at my side
dance in the kitchen
sing to myself

I hear the rustling of keys
I inhale deeply
as my feet stick to the floor

you are back
and I retreat
back under my blankets

we are not at war