Sleep

Sharp, needle claws
deep in my throat,
stabbed tummy
over and over and over,
little streams
eroding my cheekbones,
and suppression of emotion
out of my control.

Such a lovely sight,
blue and gold cotton,
faded, worn, soft -
my achingly lovely bed -
the incredible tug
to go over there,
lay down, close eyes,
nip and tuck memories
with a sharp sleep-knife.

Every breath too hard,
eyebrows are furrowed
from years of the strain,
new lines form
as I resist, for a moment.

"Just lay down now,
little girl,
and forget it all,
once more.
Sleep for me,
sleep with me,
tonight,"
such beckoning
whispers from the bottle
draw me into silence.

Neverland
was never so sweet
as the amnesia
offered by
my sleep.

So step lightly,
I certainly do,
and close my eyes
and choose to forget,
for another brief
coffee break
from my head.