sleep dolly

i spent last year's childhood
clasped in his arms
boy unashamedly
fragile little
doll
to love.
for he was lonely.
and i would sleep blind
with my closed button eyes
not seeing his beauty
sleep, dolly.
wake up
to skin of ivory
and red blush
on the apples of my cheeks.
when we grew up
and my limbs grew strong
strong enough to think
and to leave.
i did.
left the little boy
older
and more than lonely
to the solace
of a bottle of whisky.
found liberation
never made me happy.
and when i do sleep,
it's awkwardly
like some poor rag dolly
with her limbs all tied-up
cast to the the floor.
head crushed
between the weight of the pillows
my heartbeat
with no twin roar.