More bad poetry.

[eldefroster]

i must be crying in my sleep.
waking up dehydrated, my eyes
still glossed over giving my morning
glass of water an ethereal glow.
maybe this time i'll still be stuck
in the slideshow of secret handholding
and kissing with our toes. even my fantasies
admit that you've put me
in the linen closet, with the halloween
decorations and old lps. "Next year"
coos my subconscious, "next year
she'll keep you up year round."
but the open spaces turn
to a sliver of light.
doors closing. eyelids opening.
thirsty for something
other than an empty room.
i must be crying in my sleep.