Oh lover, lover, I have been calling for you,
deep in the dusking of the night just before dawn.
The air grows still and frosty,
holding it’s breath for the imminent sun and
I stare at the deep cracks in the ceiling,
naming the shapes the dusty watermarks make and
my twin bed feels big and empty.
The sandman clambers through my open window,
tugs his hardest at my canthi,
begging for my submission
“It’s almost dawn, after all “ but
I will not follow where he beckons.
Every settling in this haunted house gives me shivers,
I search the greying shadows for yours,
scouring the corners for your translucent smile and
the red of my sheets mocks the blood in my veins,
rushing and reaching and remembering,
in the deadness.
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