Falling asleep
In the blackness of the night
Falling asleep
In the inert silence of the night
Breathing slowly, deeply, heavily
In the stickiness of the airless night
Limiting sight behind
The drawn blinds of her eyelids
What's there to see
In a room
With closed curtains
Behind closed Windows
Behind locked shutters
Blocking any moonlight
Tempting to awake
Sleeping Beauty
Resting there
Her mind is a blank ripple
Crossing the mirror
Of her nightlight dreams
Empty dreamscape
Of perpetual fog
Swirling to an unfelt wind
To the Rhythm of an absent music
Time advances by ticking away
Infinite disturbance
Tearing at her flesh endlessly
Remorselessly to dissipate
Erasing her remains.
For To sleep is to die nightly.
Lucette C. Bailliet
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