Same hands...

you are different
but you have the same hands
the same mouth
so it's hard not to remember
that our hands used to fit together
so perfectly on a night—any night—
spent on the couch, television on.
now we stiffen
as our hands graze one another
inches apart on the same couch.
your same hands.

The single have no bedtime...

the single have no bedtime
no curfew to meet
they may stay up for hours in front of the computer's glow
they may not leave the sofa until 3 a.m.
groggily making their way to cold beds, dark rooms

they are not prodded by the internal clock of another
there is no finishing prize
no warmth beside them
no heavy breath in the midnight air
just the rustling of sheets as insomnia sets in