it was a calming embrace but it evolved into a suffocating hostage act.
each strike of the hour before dawn increased the strength of the vines and the flowers from my three layered bed. they strangled me from neck to toes.
as i lay myself to bed, your quick verses, your seemingly programmed responses, your last sentences, your faint smell of poetry and your prose of condescension married with the seeds of my affection gave life to the multi-colored flora that has long remained dormant at the sheets and mattresses. i struggled. but the more i struggled, the stronger their grip becomes to keep me from taking refuge at the realms of morpheus.
those vines and flowers were made of wickedness. as if memories of the immediate past were not painful enough to the mind, they choked every muscle of my body with the stress of my longing and urge to dial the familiar 10 digit numbers.
i dialed the phone but immediately hang up.
i was not ready for that. not just yet. these vines could just choke me to death but no, i will not hear voices from the distant past yet.
the myriad of noises from the streets outside the window to the sporadic scratches and snores from the multicultural neighbors nextdoor helped me to relax and finally surrender to the pressures of the poison ivy army. a few minutes after i relaxed my muscles and senses, they finally loosened up.
slowly, they gave up and threw me back to the land of morpheus.
high and dry. somehow a worn down mind prevents me from meeting you there.