She sleeps in a bed of her own design
Made up of mistakes and mistrust
A mattress full of lust
Her sheets suffocate her in silent suspicion.
Intimacy gives way to interrogation
Faithfulness is lost in the fray
And there she lays, nay.
She lies!
Covering her truths
With stories sewn from threads
Of doubt and shame.
And what a shame
That on this frame
Seeds are no longer sown,
Yet tantrums are still thrown
Like a queen on her throne
Being taken to the guillotine.
And just like a dream
It seems
That all of these scenes
Flash by in an instant.
And while her head rolls against the pillow covers
I do the same around my shoulders
Acting as the soldier she wants me to be.
So I stand at attention while she pays me none
And I wait.
Feeling fully the weight of my decision
As I look from her face to that of the clock
And count down the seconds until she awakens again.
