Even as I Sleep

This morning I am drawn
restlessly to slumber endlessly
between the sheets.

To quitely suffer
the coming of the day
with eyes closed,
even to the reality that creeps
like warmth into my bones.

I would like to sleep some more.
oblivious
to the time, to the place, to the call
of the things that I must do.

But even sleep, now,
cannot comfort me.
I am wretched.
I am unloved.
And even in my dreams
she haunts me still.

Only in my dreams
will her arms enfold me.
Only in my dreams
will I feel our palms touch.
Only in my dreams
will I know.

But I am awake now.
Sooner or later my bare feet
must endure the chill of the tiled floor.
Just a little longer.
Not yet.
Not yet.