My dream's they rebel against me, they fill my sleeping hours with visions of you,
I nightly storm of hope that evaporates in the cold morning light leaving me as empty as the discarded whiskey bottle by my bed,
How cruel they are to place you in my arms when such things may never occur,
to place your body next to me to press your lips to mine.
These things I dream of in the day but to feel them as real as the warmth of the sun when I rest my weary bones is a sin I perpetrate upon myself without malice or forethought.
Why must I torture myself so when I have no hope that you would be mine.
Is this a punishment for living such a mundane life that could never entice you?
Is this karma returning my pain ten fold for so many wrongs against my
fellow man?
No matter though for when I sleep there you will be, I will feel your
warmth your breath your touch for a few fleeting hours when my soul will soar with joy and when the dawn breaks my slumber let the pain start afresh for such is my lot without you