Ambien Dreams

It is a strange feeling,

not being able to sleep.

A place I once found comfort

in every crease, crevice…comfort

in the paisley blue and pink, comfort

in the simultaneous warmth and cool.

Now I feel the sting

of a fold misplaced, sting

in the heat of the pillow, sting

in the biting night air.

I take to my Ambien dreams

where I find solace

in my hardened heart.

In my Ambien dreams,

you always have a light, ever so faint stubble,

the landscape around your downward smile.

The prickle that leads to your chest,

covered in warm flannel,

aching to be touched.

Your hand longs to hold mine,

your lips to graze mine,

the cherry of your mouth and

the olive of your skin.

So perfectly smooth, in my Ambien dreams.

It makes me feel like a crumbling fool.

My thirst for you seizes my entire self,

makes me smack my lips when you are near.

In my Ambien dreams,

we twist in my sheets, gripping each other

in the dead of night.

Your skin is soft, but

your hands calloused.

They stroke my ivory cheeks,

tingling the nerves on my thighs,

reddening my cheeks.

I glow in the darkness

as you sleep next to me on the pillow.

In my Ambien dreams, I sleep soundly.

But your love quickly fades with the sun,

and your mark is left in my bed,

on my body,

on my heart.

I know not to trust the night,

but for a short time, you do not hurt.

But the color melts from my sheets,

the blue and pink leaking and staining my floor.

I swim in my own self loathing.

I grab the pieces of myself,

rinse them off, and call you back for seconds.

Don’t you see,

that in my Ambien dreams,

I can give you what you need.

The pieces will fit like a perfect map.

In my Ambien dreams,

you always return

to me.