If only there was a latch strong enough
to lock out your presence that comes between the daylights
cloaked in a dizzying reality
forcing the idea of you to exist.
If only there were curtains thick enough
to black out the memories I see in my slumber
taunting me with entanglements
we’ve never belonged in.
If only there was a pillow soft enough
to comfort the head where thoughts race tirelessly
begging to be proven wrong
with radiological evidence.
Then the bed that cradles me each night
would be the safest place on this side of heaven.