When she finds herself sleeping too much
she thinks of me.

I only see her now and then. There are no
rings between us. There is only the sound
of her stocking-covered feet sliding across
the wooden floor;
then a knock on my door. I always let her in
and then I always let her leave.

She calls me her incendiary voice. I breathe
into her and she is grateful. I am her subtle
source of energy. She tells me I am too
much to take for too long.

I know this about myself.

When she leaves

I crawl onto my closet floor, close
the door and hide under a mountain of dark
clothing.

Sometimes I get lonely during the moments in between.