I lie in vintage floral and breathe in the musty smell of the "yellow bedroom"
The room is pitch black and in the distance is the blaring of the 11 o'clock news echoing on two televisions

I toss and turn in my bed
Its mattress much firmer
than I am used to
It makes my bones ache so I crack my feet
and stretch my legs
I hear footsteps coming down the hall so I shuffle in my place and quickly click the lamp beside me off
I lie perfectly still
Rubbing my tongue against my teeth

A small white sore formed on the tip of my tongue one week ago and it won't go away
When I eat sugar or spice
it burns
Sometimes I stick it in the air and feel the cold **** up all the moisture
Drying and healing the spot
But only momentarily
Until I place it back in my mouth, and the stinging returns, two fold

The sounds of steps again,
this time departing
Then the sound of the microwave

My eyes are swollen from lack of sleep

I lie and think of the summer I slept in this same bed
After a long days work in the heat my skin was blistered
from the sun
I took a photo of my tan lines to send to someone
My back
bright red
I can still smell the scent
of weeds
and freshly dug dirt
underneath what fingernails I had left
I could feel the dirt spill out onto my pillow as I rested my head on the back of my hand

I adjusted my position and suddenly felt the space between my legs burn
Earlier, in the shower, I attempted to shave with a cheap pink razor
It mutilated me
Left dozens of little pin ***** like wounds
The rush of discomfort caused me to sweat profusely and the combination of the perspiration and heat almost created a cool tingling sensation that reminded me of dry ice

I laid still again until the pain went away

I could feel my eyelids
getting heavier
Sleep beckoned

I recalled a happy memory
from a few days prior
As I closed my eyes
I imagined myself
back in my own bedroom
My own television
Its volume barely audible
On the screen
A film entitled
"To Catch A Thief"
My head burrowed
in a mans chest
My arms wrapped around
his neck
Swirling the ends of his hair
in my fingertips
I would drift in
and out of a dream
Each time, waking with a jolt
After some time,
He announced his departure
pulling himself out from underneath me,
kissing me softly
and slinking out the door

I yearned now
for the sort of sleep
that followed then
A heavy,
almost drug induced sleep
My body dense and soupy
My mind delirious
My dreams
Rapturous

But the elation of this idea
was short lived
And instead,
I was back in stiff sheets
Once again,
I could hear the televisions
This time;
the sounds of late night infomercials

I had always hated falling asleep alone
It was tedious
as a twice told tale
And desolate
as a desert
Back and forth
My left and right shoulder occasionally
exchanging the weight
My internal organs
sloshing in me
from one side to the other

Finally,
I found a comfortable spot
And decided
I had better force myself to sleep
On account of an early wake up time tomorrow
I took one last long breath
in through my nose

I was wearing his sweatshirt,
In the hopes his smell would waft in and put me right to sleep like a lullaby
but instead all I could smell was my own perfume I had spritzed earlier

The image of his face would have to suffice for now
I closed my eyes and imagined the small dimple in his chin and the sound of a door closing shut.

Soon I was fast asleep.