Nights caress me with softer subtleties,
to lull insecurities into restless sleep.
Tossing and turning is bad for the soul,
bed sheets, twisting around legs, creep
into nightmares of suffocating solitude.

Darkness surrounds me with quieting conscience,
thoughts seeping through deafened ears,
from days of listening, onto blacketed pillows,
which only wanted shelter from countless tears
cried through years of reddened eyes and bleeding
hearts.

Sparks fly like rocket ships to remind me that
second chances only come to those in love,
showered in towers of rose buds and daffodils,
be them weeds or strange symbols of white dove
affection, raining on all stuck unguarded, sans
protection.