Nights.

As I put my head beneath my bolster,

there comes a little monster,

finding its way through my curtain wrapped windows.

I pull my sheets and lay my back straight,

wondering if I had been done with the day’s weight.

Anxious, I stay, in contrast to ecstasy and gay,

like the thread of a shirt when it tends to fray.

Every seventh minute, I stare at my bottle of wine,

standing upright on the teak chair full of shine.

As the monster finds its way and takes its place beside me,

I stay static, thanks to my line of thoughts.

My mind takes me through the days I had been bullied and kicked,

as the one beside me tries to tell me I have always been tricked.

Sigh.

The stars in the sky,

The moon hangs low.

My thoughts are lost

As moonbeams dance through my window.

Everything is interrupted by a hand, solid and rough,

with its fingers making their way through mine.

A silent scream, from my soul, trying to escape into air,

before being halted by a voice sounding so bare.

“Everyone’s a finagler out there, beware, my dear,

for I will remain true to you, forever, so throw out the fear”.

I blink twice, and try to alter my pacing heart,

and stare at my shelf possessing a variety of gins and wine,

as it rotated its palm parallel to mine.

My Devil.

The clock says half past three,

as I lay between my Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.

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