(no subject)
I wrote this a while ago, a few months actually, when I wasn't sleeping well. I have a lot of what I wrote back then, sitting in a small beige cubicle being so quiet that people asked if I was there or not. Interesting to be spoken of as invisible when you think that you stick out like a sore thumb.
sleep
such a tart
she dances slowly, seductively out of reach
the apple in the garden of eden
yet we're on the wrong side
she flirts but has only one master
only one to whom she answers
time
the cruel lord
who steals away from us
when we need him most
keeping his lover safe
away from us
she smiles, graceful veils floating
her stage the warmth of your bed
her slender legs caressing your blankets
her delicate fingers running along your pillows
an orgy of movement
where you would lie still with her
but time screams out and she responds
like a gazelle jumping away to him
mocking you with her gaze
wraping limb around him
slipping silken robe from her shoulder
climbing into relaxing repose with him
while you watch, other tasks at hand
requirements of life holding you in chains
away from her pale satin skin
whos touch brings her to you
whos touch brings sleep