Better Nights

By Jessica Garcia-Tejeda

And it was so dark looking out the window,
my hands traced out the constellations.
My eyelashes fell heavy and rested upon my cheek.
The seatbelt held my head like a tender tightrope,
the sound of the turn signal beat steadily like a heart.
And soon enough, car doors swung closed with a thud.
I felt his strong embrace lift me up.
My feet swung as he carried me up each step
and I felt his crisp dress shirt and pressed tie.
A makeshift crib.
And when he gently placed me down
in a sea of pink-flowered covers and stuffed animals,
I tugged on his tie, begging him to stay.
A comfort lost.