Lying to Myself

love poem

3-31-11

 I lie here lying to myself about falling asleep, I am prone, prone to believe the lie that love is. Love is only looking in a mirror at myself and trying to see myself in love reflected back at me.

I lie here, prone feeling my body go numb except for the points of pressure that are gravity pulling the weight of my body down, gravity pulling my heart down. I could not fall for you any faster than falling asleep and the changing of sleep into a dream, and dreams are lies that lie to us when we lie down to sleep.

Lying here feeling the sound of my breath. Breath is the wind of our words that we have not spoken, the only words that have been spoken lie on this page and whisper their cold black silence in your head, the shapes of words that lie here dead, dead as the death of my mind and body when it sleeps alone in this bed.

The pillows pillow my head to protect it from the hard thoughts on which it lies, the lies that it thinks are as real as the cold hard darkness of the night crushing the head that tries to pillow the sound of the hard thoughts into silence.

The covers keep me warm until they slip away and I try to recover them like the dreams that slipped away as again I wake where I lie as I lie here thinking of you.