there is a bed
a simple bed
where i end each day
interlocking with my familiar seraph like the tongue-and-groove beneath
and the stress and the peeves and the annoyances and the undone to-do list
dissolve
into my pillow
where they morph into sleep's mind-stories
interrupted only breaths at a time
long enough to see who's beside me and to smile at no one
and to drift back
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