I'd prefer to just keep my tired eyes open, to stay semi-alert into the night, the early morning hours, as I usually do. If I weren't feeling quite so sick, I'd sit up just thinking of you, letting thoughts drift in and out of my mind. I'd sooner delay a trip into dreamland, if it meant that you'd be here to hold, be there to comfort my swirling memories, this weary noggin'. I've my dreams custom-made by the sprite in the moon, so that they might always include you.

i'd never rest, and
the sleep sprites try
as they might to draw me in
would fail harshly, and be alone
wandering in their little world

i'd never lay 
my dream-strong head
upon the softest pillow
if being awake meant i
could touch your lips 
(softly, with my fingertips)

the trees, a dark shadow
and the moon smiles down
i wait to hear it whisper
that my dream is complete, and then

i fall asleep to be with you

I don't want to sleep, I don't want to leave, I don't want to let go. Last time I left... I stepped out for half an hour, for a loaf of bread, and that half hour spanned more than a hundred years.

I'm afraid to let go where I can't hear you, see you, touch you, convince myself your body still *exists* in this plane. The moment each night as I hang up the phone, when I have lost that touch, hurts more than anything in the entire universe.

I wish we could eat air and breathe in sleep, so this leaving each moment was not needed. But the moment we say goodbye every night I sit awake for a while in fear, in fear of losing you, again, as I have too many times before in too many lives. Star-crossed lovers? Not really. Not anymore. I've wandered the years, you've wandered too, both alone, and now we've returned home.

 I sit awake and worry and think and remember and hurt. I die young. I always do. And usually violently. (That is why the garden meant so much to me... then, at least... I found a peaceful death.) But I hate to leave you for a moment, even if we are both exhausted and upset and everything, at least I can feel your continued EXISTENCE. When we leave for sleep, I have no reassurance of your life, until the morning when I return to you, or you me. Leaving terrifies me.

So here I sit, until the moment I cannot possibly remain awake a moment longer, long after my body has shut down and screams for rest. Only when my mind is too beaten and bruised and broken to continue existing for the day can I sleep. Only after thoughts shatter into a million tiny splinters, only when my eyes go so I cannot see my words or thoughts here, only when my arms twitch too much to move this mouse, only when my body breaks and can no longer move, can I get past the fear enough to sleep.

Then, at that moment I fall in bed, alone, for you are miles away... at that moment... my only thought as my poisoned brain spirals towards the abyss, only then can I sleep. and when I do sleep... i fall asleep to be with you... I fall asleep to grasp what connection I can, in a dream, a trance. All i want from sleep is you. I fall asleep ONLY to be with you.


my own personal time capsule of lives

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