The Steel Bars Were Cold

Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale.

The steel bars of the bed feel cold,

vaguely uninviting me in my own space.

I insist. I curl between my sheets.

I close my eyes, but the non-confrontation creeps in:

Imagine a voice speaking in your head,

A voice clearly unrecognizable,

speaking the same words you long to hear.

'This is not an ending. The time is ours'

Words I wanted to hear during the sunset.

Words that he couldn’t say to me directly.

I draw sheep after sheep on a canvas inside my head.

Each sheep turns out, bearing names,

names that leave me dazed.

I stretch my legs out, numbing my feet for a couple of seconds.

I open my eyes again, and stretch my hands above my head.

Glowing stars nested on the ceiling.

I look at them intently,

the silent stars that watched me sleep every night.

I will them to speak, to reason with me.

All I hear is veiled laughter, mocking.

I cover my eyes with my left hand.

Not far off I hear a rooster crow his morning song;

the night went away, and left me sleepless.