The bulb fizzled out above us –streetlamp Half-lights painted abstract art instead. We Lay in bed, half asleep ourselves, in damp Sheets and heavy limbs, unable to see The ceiling display unfolding above. We spent our time asleep, dreaming in sync, To the beat of your twitching. Is this love? Because I swear I saw it in the brink Of now and then, as the little death won: The heavens opened and the singing spheres danced wild through your eyes. A trinity spun into a song that only I could hear. Stirring, you saw none of that, while the lights Of the streetlamps hummed softly in the night.