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Sleeping

This is actually just part of a book I am writing for real and outside of Quizilla, but it makes a good poem too.
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Created by theshivers on Thursday, July 17, 2008

How close I am

to the door

and the kitchen.

He is asleep right now, I know,

and I am not.

How hot I am

in this room

with its closed windows and broken blinds.

He is asleep right now, I know,

and I am not.

How my eyes burn

in this room, standing close to the door

with its closed windows and broken blinds –

I walk quietly to the kitchen.

The lights are off,

but the moon is creeping in.

I lean against the counter,

sip my glass of milk.

I stop.

I have only taken a few sips, but I am done.

The counter is not clean

but I have lost any motivation for wiping it down.

Shadows crawl up and down the wall

beside the stove,

so I watch them,

name them,

count them.

It is 1:51 am.

I think about earlier,

10:00

and I told him, screamed at him,

“you never listen to me!”

we were arguing.

I must be crazy.

I have to pee,

I set the glass on the dirty counter,

and walk a little faster,

a little less balanced than before.

The bathroom isn’t as dirty,

and the mirror is big.

But I still do not turn on the lights.

The blinds are open, which works just fine.

I wash my hands slowly now, watching my reflection

My eyes are tired,

my lips white.

My hands must be clean now, but I keep scrubbing.

My room is so clean – spotless.

I lay next to him

and watch him breath.

He is not under the blankets, and the skin on his naked chest quivers.

“Jesse?” I whisper. “Jesse, will you wake up?”

He stirs. I touch my fingers to his bare shoulder

my hands are very cold –

they are always cold.

“What?” he asks sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Do you - ” love me? I think. But I am too afraid.

His eyes open slightly, waiting

as they sparkle at me

they almost light up the space around our heads.

“Do you want a blanket?”

his eyes close.

“Yeah, sure,” he sighs.

I slide the covers down from under him,

and back up again

so that he is warmer,

so that something keeps him here.

I stand up.

Slide my jeans off

and place them softly in the hamper.

I unbutton my shirt

with great concentration

and place it atop the jeans.

A nightshirt takes their place.

I slip underneath the blanket

to lie beside him and sleep.

He grumbles, makes half-asleep noises,

turns gently towards the wall and

away from me.

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