Date Nights

My pillow beckons to me.

I reply with a drawn out yawn,

yet still refuse to let the temptress of sleep

drag me down into the covers.

I‘m aware it’s what my body needs, but in truth

insomnia is a better snuggler.

Admittedly, she can be rowdy

when I try to rest my head.

She gets rather jealous when I

confide in my warm bed.

So, we sit by the window watching

the rain tap-dancing in puddles

of galaxies on the asphalt.

She isn’t much of a talker, but reads

over my shoulder as I write poetic

observations about my day.

What feels like mere minutes

melts into hours, but neither of us

notice. Time shakes his head, but we

don’t care—after all, three is a crowd.

Nothing is said until I pour out

another yawn. As if sensing dissension,

she leans in and whispers a plea,

”Don’t go, stay with me”.

Although, she knows my very desires,

I know her game just as well.

Before dawn, she will abondon me

with her cruel kiss of exhaustion

staining my left cheek. Meanwhile,

the Rest she pocketed will hang

below my sunken eyes like

cheap Walmart bags.

With each new day, I repent

and make amends with my pillow.

When evening comes, she sneaks

past the setting sun, as footprints

of solace follow her to my door.

With a peacful embrace she

arrests me again, as if

the break-up never happened.