My feet are bruised and my toes are blue.
I fell asleep on the floor, listening to the Beatles
with the lights on,
thinking of you.

Flowers sit atop my head as I rise
from my slumber.
Were you not here at one point during my repose?

Yes, you were here, as I recall,
dancing on the air around me.
I watched you fall from your spot in the sky,
as I slept underneath.

You frequent the space I occupy, but only in my slumber.
You have the tendency to evaporate upon my stirring.
This, darling, is why I cannot afford insomnia,
for I would never see you.

Which is why I fell asleep thinking of you,
listening to the Beatles
with the lights on, on the floor,
with bruised feet and blue toes.