Slightly Out Of Reach

Where have all my pillows gone? . . .

My bed is missing a few things lately.

Definitely a few of these damn pillows,

       But also:

      Her warmth,

         Her heartbeat,

           Her arms,

            Her snoring,

              Her moans,

    Her cold feet,

And her head, as she curls up in a ball and rests it on my chest.

   Sleep is cold and shallow here in this bed. Tragedy echoes in this head.

My dreams dance, slightly out of reach again; 

    While my memories have become nightmares. 

      Dawn must be coming soon . . .

And new dreams are bound to bleed through. 

Dawn must be coming soon, but winter is almost here, in this bed with me. 

CH 10/12/26