Nocturne (poem)

Nocturne

“You were bleeding in your sleep
again last night,” you tell me as
the sun crests over hills so blue
they look unreal, under a sky
as dark as God’s disappointment.

I look down at the crimson sheets.
Your face is a mask of quiet thoughts
and concern, stained red, and I feel
myself falling back asleep as my
flesh opens again to mourn.

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