if troubled sleep was the source of all poetry
all poetry was but destined to sleep
shut all blinds down shut empty grief
you once told me how impossible it is to breathe
conjugal love is such a beast
so stay away I did from any resemblance to meet
never asking how or why a beast is a beast
is it when eyes droop red and lactic acid does bleed
in your veins no blood is left that you be a beast?
conjugal love is wrist slitting poetry to plead
but please let me sleep
with, not without you I can calmly breathe
is it this what you recently revealed
troubled sleep is the source of more troubled sleep

Photograph Courtesy: Sharbeen Sarash © All Rights Reserved