i'll see you in the morning.

…
and we tire of the echoes of exhaustion
that bleed into the late hours of night,
fertilizing sleep with restlessness.
tonight, we will not dream –
eyes closed, a dress rehearsal for
death itself. we rebel one last time
with a hypnic jerk, the mind racing
to wake one last time but we have
drank each other’s opium –
our hearts, for now, are content,
pulsing songs of the nightingales.
we simmer slowly into sleep.
a rolodex of today’s memories
spin quickly, before you settle
on the sweet nothings that
were said. we settle into
gentle repose, a temporary
state of nothingness,
unseeded randomness.

tonight, we will not dream –
dreams coat the mind in wax,
and you,
you alone –
turn it into a poet.