There is no solitude quite like 1:47 am or 2:43 am. We are certainly alone at this time. Comforting voices are asleep in other rooms, other beds, in other places. Images, ideas and thoughts play and replay around in our heads to be shared with no one but ourselves. Floor boards creak, wind rustles leaves, clocks tick, partners and children breath in and out, sleeping the sleep that we crave. Rewind, play back, the thoughts merry-go-round in my mind, over and over. They will seem light in the morning but now they are vivid and heavy, demanding to acknowledged over and over. A commercial that annoyingly repeats itself, yes, I heard you you.
So I touch your skin. I lightly brush your arm. I nuzzle my face in your back. I lightly kiss your shoulder. Some comfort is there for me. Maybe if I lay closer to you your blanket of sleep will cover me too and then we can be in dream world together. Insomnia no longer imprisons me the way it once did because I have you. Even in the silence of the night you give me comfort. HA! Take that, Insomnia. I have a defense against you! My lover brings me peace in this abyss you create. It is dark, quiet but no longer lonely because of him. His body laying next to me here in your sleep deprived cave keeps me warm. I gather strength from the contentedly sleeping man next to me. Even in his soundless state he supports me and you don't drain me anymore.
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