at night

my bed is lovely
with two soft
down comforters and
a dozen pillows
to snuggle up to
warm and inviting
but a fickle temptation

he never lets me rest
when he holds me
in the night
when my eyes
should retire
alongside my overworked mind
there is regeneration
in rest

but as it seems
my lovely bed
prefers the throw
of my tossing and turning
and the sighs
of my frustration
beating the pillow
in to (a)shape
that will cradle me

as I write this now
I look at him
opening himself to me
beckoning I come
lay with him
a ruse of promised sleep
my eyelids heavy in desire
to shut out
the craziness of day -

While my lovely bed
is good at seducing me
he refuses to turn me off
and so the lights
keep burning
and I begin to resent
the passing of the hour
too awakened by the day
that I greet my lovely
bed each night
alone, always, this way