Pushed away
my good-sleep nights
Guardian
at the Gate of Dreams
Holder of the wide-awakes
Holder of me
Uncurled
Unfurled
Half-spooned
Draft-spooned
cold at my back
Wrapped in his nothing
Now they crawl in bold
between awakes and asleeps and heat
Dropping
Danger
and
Dead things
I do not trust the Night
that leaves rendered sheets Unholy
and Dreams not fit for Dreamers
like me.
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