Certain Mornings

There are just mornings
when I can press refresh;
waking up undressed, then
caressed by her
But some nights
each toss is painful;
maddened every turn,
and I’m alone when I awake.

I’d rather be loved,
than comfortable,
or comfortably in love
Like when I blink, then sunlight
shows through blinds, instead of
nothing, which is an insomniac’s
worst nightmare; despair
at the mercy of the sun

Chronologically miscalculated;
Our dreams expedite night
Eyes in hibernation
Being, in limbo
I want to wake up
to the distance between
live and love; the ambivalence
of altered love letters