without you i resort to strange acts of introversion i started renting out all the small spaces in our apartment. you were away for the weekend at your dad's big house in the woods. there were so many gaps in myself. i always think i need more company than i do. the word "introvert" means to turn within, to bend inward. i bend like curling vines. i climb the walls with my barefeet. i use Air BNB. i say this is a lovely place to vacation. the space beneath my pillow. the jar of tacs. the crook of my elbow. the bell of a daffodil. the slit beneath the fridge. i could fit in any of these. i charge no rent. i tell them to bring their laughter in jars. these people were the size of my thumb. i asked them to teach me how to be so small. their voices sounded like needles dancing with each other. i pretended to understand what they said. i didn't want to be a rude host. host & ghost sound close together. i kept wandering what you would think of the scene if you came home early: me croaching on the floor as i served pen caps of tea to these guests before they made their ways to all their creases & nooks for the night. all their dreaming kept me awake. i saw tiny movies of their minds project on the ceiling from their eyes. these were different humans. i wanted to tell you about all of this but i didn't want you to think i was careless, filling out house with strangers. did you know some Air BNB hosts keep hidden cameras. i am not that kind of host though i can understand the urge to peel open a private life. sometimes i look for cameras & i believe our landlord is watching us on her living room TV. she likes you best. when you come home she will see you arriving before i do. all the guests have left & here i am. i touch the places they slept to remember their warmth. i remind myseld our landlord might just be lonely-- might enjoy our sofa kisses & lamplight sadnesses. she might wish we argued more dramatically. will you forgive me for all the guests? they were beautiful. i trusted them. you would have liked them. the house is bending inward like a vine.