I used to hate waking up in the middle of the night,
the gentle glow of a snore resonating from two pipes,
would shake me as my eyes would close,
but now during the rest of the days, you know mon-thurs,
I find that my ears can't take it,
they are tired of being lonely,
scared of not being held by the gentle whisk of a growl,
sad that your half of the bed is being held up,
by 107 miles that separate my ears from you nose.