quagmires

bedtime

(I placed you in my bed, but it was not to sleep.

I expected you to stay, but you thought it best to leave

for something else, but still, with a part of me.)

I lied by you in bed but I did not know

that being asleep is something you preferred to being woke

-n but my noises, however bittersweet,

they were unexpected.

“like a truck,” you said

unlike the ebbs of the earth, you suggest

“it surprises me,” you claim.

I guess it’s true — you did not ever wake up

to see me breathing on Sunday morning

or to hear me speak all but sweet nothings,

and I suppose now is the time

–I know– it is bedtime

for more than I’ll care to admit (at all times).

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