Bangin' On My Door

At night,

You become this fixture of my imagination,

The chandelier light to my mind.

And you burn so fiercely there,

You distant and pretty thing.

Why at night to do you burn so horribly bright?

Is it loneliness that draws you forth from my mind,

Or is it my late-night vulnerability that beckons you to

The forefront?

As I lie in bed and conjure thoughts

Of you,

What causes it?

You are these fleeting bird-like thoughts

Any other time of day.

But at night you are there,

And so I wonder,

Why?

It seems that often,

You are close enough to me at night

That I can hear you breathing softly,

Sleeping near.

But this is strange and foreign,

And I don't like how it sounds when I type it.

You are not fitting into the words right.

Thoughts meander and prevent sleep,

And yet lull it closer,

Your quiet voice stuck in my head,

A whisper of you in my night-thoughts.

Often I imagine you sleeping,

So soundly,

Calm.

And it seems so awful.

Awkward.

But it's not.

Somehow.

I imagine you all groggy from sleep in the pale mornings.

And I soon fall asleep in my thoughts.

Sometimes to dream of why it's not right.

And last night,

Through snippets of dream,

I became more thoroughly disheartened than usual.

You have a girl who most likely knows how you sleep

And hears your quiet voice at night.

She is probably wonderful.

And I am happy that you have a girl like that.

I really am, actually.

While I fall into dreams

Unconscious.