restless nocturne

I do not wake
from day to day
morning, night
ever the same
wakeful sleeping
my very skin
lies restless
on these bones
bleached white
by moonlight
brittle as day
in December
the recollection
of things once
wished for
ties the threads
of my minutes
to intervening
hours, hours, hours
of wakeful nothing
to sleep
to dream
soft wishes
a pillow
grey dust
of night’s
bright stars
to cover
me over
at peace
at last

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