It’s late, getting late
I need to sleep – sleep is good
Sleep is short but dark
the bed all for myself
generating my own warmth
My own light of day
I’m trying to make it stay
But some evenings
Not just you
but all of it seems
to have gone away
And I am just
the grey fibry
Residue of that
bitter drink of expectation
Alone at the bottom of the glass
‘til the next getaway