the approaching night is bleak
and notorious for the pain
provoked by the flow of too much yes
and not enough yowling alone.
I pull the feeble flannels
and too many pillows
close as feathers
into the nest of bones I make
each time I must sleep.
If I motion to you and whisper
that it is time to join the tumble
into what we know of love,
be gentle.
I have forgotten
all the rules
and need to be reminded
of what really matters.
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