Restless sleep
The darkest keep
Of senseless dreams.
And there it seems
The sleeping heart
Is kept apart
From bitter mind
Where hope once shined,
Until the dark
Put out that spark.

But dreams are stuff
With truth, enough,
To cling to day,
And as they stay
In space between
The day’s routine.
They come to feel
A bit too real.

Then, mornings come,
With warnings from
A place of loss
That spans across
My heart unstilled,
And unfulfilled.
Those lips not kissed
The touch just missed
The time not shared
The soul not bared,
The naked skin,
Without the sin.

Now, when I wake,
The day will take
The part I crave
To memory’s grave.
And leaving just
The hint of dust,
Those specters fade,
In sunlight’s shade.
And as my room
Descends to gloom,
I pray for light
In dreams, tonight.