The Lady In My Arms

When is a man allowed to forget about his lady

i have had a vision, so corroded and rusty,

upon the back of my head, quietly sits the oblongata.

spinning thoughts and allusions, dreams and nightmares,

my brain decides to spoil me with a nightmare, not long ago

i was holding you close to me because you were my beloved,

they say shades of yellonin and melanin that is black and white human. Your skin and mine was like day and night walking together under the canopy of the bright yellow sheets. i held you close to me insecurely and overprotectively like a fireman's suite or the marines jump suite. i was sure i was not going to let go at least not without a fight. Slumber is a warrior that conquers even lions the king of the jungle. Everyone falls by its visitation and devourment. Tranquility and dead silence that is its playground.

i lay there miserable, unconscious, with my hands together at a praying position between my thighs, a lost memory of my sweet lady sleepy head, i lost time, i lost memory and i lost energy, so i let go and turned and spinned, i was alone. at 3 a.m an arrow of crispy cold chill was shot through a small pop on the windows hinges, like the first drop of snowflake upon a leave, i shivered helplessly because innovation does not settle on a sleepy mind.

Thank God i did not wish my lady goodnight and though tomorrow holds uncertain mystery, i wish to hear from you but as for now may your night be calm, as the distance vastness of miles keeps us apart that is so even to the men that sleep with their ladies on the same bed too close yet too far.

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