Sleep

Sleep has been an elusive mistress since I came home,
And I always seem to glimpse her leaving my bed...
Her undulating hips, her playful tousled hair,
She doesn't seem to mind leaving me behind
Alone, tangled in my tear soaked sheets,
Flipping through my pillows for one you didn't see,
For one soft inch of bed that doesn't scream your name
Or one goddamn night where I don't reach for you.
She always seems to slither from my bed
At half past four am or two, or three, or eight...
It doesn't seem to matter that I'd like to hold her there
For one more taste, one touch, one sultry stare...
She doesn't seem to care that I'd like to snuggle her,
Or cuddle, nuzzle, kiss, and whisper poetry...
She lets me gather one, two hours at a time,
Then drips between my arms, between my fingertips,
Leaving me alone with your haunting memory.
I don't know what to tell her, to keep her in my bed,
I don't know what to promise or vow to her instead,
I'd like to tell her that she and I are true,
That in a few weeks I'll stop reaching for you..
She doesn't seem to care, and when I close my eyes,
She watches me obediently for any signs of longing,
She pulls me from my coma, your name still on my lips
And slithers from my bed between wet, begging lids.