Curled beside you in a single bed,
I am a hermit crab, tucked
neatly in its shell.
On the dream-catcher pillow,
our heads graze, mingle dark
hair with light.
Your shallow breathing speaks,
like the sea whispering its secrets
through an open shell –
It says that you’re not quite asleep
yet, but you’re doing a damn good job
Ignoring the scratching of a pen
pouring out its inky insides comes
easily to you now.
Midnight brings a spell, pulls words
from me like running water,
spills letters on the page.
While outside, the blue-black sky
is at its darkest, and the snoozing
street absorbs sound,
Poetry lives in these cotton bed
sheets, lurks here in steady silence,
waits for sleep.