and i'm waking up asleep again

 

the grey-winged morning swoops through
the frosted window to spread itself upon her, the
broken dreamer & she

falls
to find her nightmares more real
in day than dark. were she stronger
she'd refrain
from pulling the cover up close again

& trying to retain the dying warmth, but not
in this descending detachment. eyes must strain
to meet the distorting light,
& she gathers

her reality, shard by shard loop by
loop, until she is lost inside.