A Box of Shadows

A Box of Shadows

I used to feel trapped, nearly all of the time
decades ago, before I even realized what I was waiting for
Every month the heavy mornings
waking in the ruins of a ruined house
walking out into the growing light alone
feeling like a small shade before the shining sun
I used to think
I would never learn to love the night

Is it wrong to deceive you this way
let you think that I am sleeping
when I lie wide-awake in the shadow of your form?
I woke before your weight shifted the bed
before your feet crept 'cross the bare wooden floor;
I knew you were coming
just before you came scratching at my door

There will be no sleep for me tonight -
The world is composed
Of your rasping breath, the black tangles of your hair
The slivered moon and all the light that has crawled in
The expanse of this bed, all the surrounding darkness
both of which cradle us like children in the womb
I wonder if you know
How far you've leaned toward me, how close you've come
and I will not shiver
in the warmth that spills from your lips and over mine -

I will not move
It is kinder to you
to keep the stillness intact, barely changed by our breathing
to keep the room a quiet cell containing only us
Not overflowed and overrun with words and awkward looks
And too many memories not banished with time;
It may mean, then, laying here forever
within these stark confines -

For one reason alone, part of me would not mind