hunting

A Promise of Relief

Sleep does not bring relief: you sir, have lied!

I cannot lie down and forget the sight nor sound

As memories of days in my mind abound

My stubborn heart clings to times, she has sighed

Days hauling through weeks, vision denied

Voice growing weary, I sink and you drown

But whisper an echo and I am spellbound

Ethereal you become, though inside you reside

I hunt you in dreams, stalk you as prey

Catch you in situ, suck the warmth from your skin

Hold you entirely, wear your body like fur

Savour your morsel, Β alike connoisseur

In slumber, all manner of joy on display

Yet never has Β sleep brought relief Β therein