I was asleep while you were dying.



It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow



I make between my slumber and my waking,







the Erebus I keep you in, still trying



not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow,



but in dreams you live. So I try taking







you back into morning. Sleep-heavy, turning,



my eyes open, I find you do not follow.



Again and again, this constant forsaking.







*







Again and again, this constant forsaking:



my eyes open, I find you do not follow.



You back into morning, sleep-heavy, turning.







But in dreams you live. So I try taking,



not to let go. You’ll be dead again tomorrow.



The Erebus I keep you in—still, trying—







I make between my slumber and my waking.



It’s as if you slipped through some rift, a hollow.



I was asleep while you were dying.





