Slanted

I should begin this with a warning, Occasionally very bad poetry will be posted. Most of these are pretty old; I recently found them in a journal in my bedside table. I thought I'd get them out in the fresh air and see if they improve with the new perspective.

Slanted

It's amazing what sharing a bed
Leads one to realize
About a foundering relationship
Sleeping with you,
Your mass
In the centre of the bed
Made me roll closer.
When you moved away
(When, not if)
I still rolled;
Making myself uncomfortable
Trying to resist
Lying awake on my slant
Thinking of ways to keep my distance.
Neither of us wanting to meet in the middle,
Both victims of your gravity
Your bed became the perfect metaphor
Of an imperfect balance,
Of typical,
One-sided love.