the sleeper

i get up and go to him where he is in the other room
and say in my most gentle voice
– come – just lie down and rest
he looks up at me with his hollow eyes
– i can’t
he is sitting on the edge of the chair
i kneel before him and take his face in my hands
– please
his eyes water and i feel my heart responding
– it doesn’t matter
he says – and i don’t know what to say
his voice is so quiet
so unshaken
as if he knows what this is
i have to try
– please just come and lie down for a while
and my hands fall to his shoulders
he is so warm
– you’re not sleeping well
he says
and i’m not
because knowing he’s awake worries me
no
it’s beyond worry now
i’m anxious
i’m distressed
– please
and i know he will come – if only to try and comfort me
– alright
and he rises

i want to embrace him
i want to press my body firmly against his
i want to indulge in his presence
selfishly soak him up like the warmth of a fire
until i can feel him in every corner of my body
but it’s distressing for him
and i can’t
i won’t
– just lie down with me
because i think if he at least lies down
in a bed where someone sleeps
eventually he’ll grow tired
and drift into peaceful rest
as if my sleep were some kind of inviting scent
that he might inhale and be influenced by

i get into bed and lie on my side
drawing back the covers
he slowly and gracefully descends
and i wish it were to make love to me
to connect with my every nerve
and i could exhale his essence
he lies on his side and looks at me for a moment
then he slowly settles onto his back
eyes wide open
i reach out and touch his shoulder
so so warm
and move my head ever so slightly forward
as if to kiss the smooth skin of his arm
but i stop myself

eventually i fall asleep
and in my dreams i reflect on him
his warmth
his scent
the shape of his body
the shapes he makes as he moves
sits
as if he is posing for me
and i were some kind of artist
drawing him over and over again
every time i see him
i muse about the reason for his sleeplessness
remembering a conversation we’d had
– you come from a place of answers
he’d said to me
– from a place of solutions and resolve
and my lips had shaken
tears emerging from my eyes
– don’t you see
i was speechless
– life for me is not so complete
it was then that i’d vowed never to leave this house
his house
until he slept
at least once
even for a few hours
i’d try to watch him
keep myself awake as long as possible
but i’d get horribly ill
and he convinced me to sleep regularly
but here he is
beside me now as i sleep
and somewhere somehow
as always
i find one more glowing piece of hope

as the sun gently warms my cheek
through the window over the bed
i open my eyes and inhale
– i’m sorry
he whispers
and i bite my lip
tears rushing to my eyes
i turn over to my other side to see him
lying on his back
his eyes open
staring at the ceiling

i sit in this featureless chair
in this featureless room
staring at her
her neutral face
her closed eyes
the doorway is a dim non-space
where the hushed sounds of the ward whisper through the air
i stare at her
wonder where she is
why she is the way she is

the machines by the bed sigh at regular intervals
in between pauses one or the other beeps
and i have learnt their pattern so well
i hear it when i leave the room
i’ve learnt to measure time this way
keeping myself awake
because maybe if i sit here long enough
i’ll see her wake up

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yep, this is definitely in the lori league

But you are the artist…creating every movement just for you.

This is really good.

Remarkably sad.