Night Noises

Sleep becomes me though I do not become sleep
I lie awake on the creaking of bedsprings
A fugue lulls the cold, despite these discomforts
There is airy melody reminiscent of death's call
And the sweet rhythmic snorts of my spirit animal
Down the hall is happening a train wreck of whistles
and wheels.
Beneath it all, the far away roar of the sea.
I hear you murmur softly in your quickened slumber
I want to crawl into your bed and add whispers to the symphony
The sound of fingerskins brushing and your arms in the small of my back
The lightness of your breath on my cheek
stirring the freckles that lonely sunshine created
O Stranger so sweetly savage
What has become of me that I should add no rhythm to this sonata with a scratching pencil
It is out of time and out of place
As am I.