Sleep, my darling, rest easy, find some peace,
Take these precious hours as release from the day,
Hide your fears and troubles away in oblivion
As drifting clouds of nothingness fill your eyes.
Breathe deep, my dear one, weep not from those closed lids,
Do not turn uneasily with your dreams,
For horror will return with sunrise, of that I can be sure,
But for now let sweet illusions hide your suffering.
We call these stories dreams, or fantasies,
Forget them when we wake, and pay them no regard.
But cherish their wanton tales and tricks,
Let madness chase nightmares away,
And sleep, my love, and when you wake,
We’ll run from the horrors of the day.
In the third week of daily updates, I once again find that I like to end the week with a more sentimental poem. I don’t really know why for sure, but it seems appropriate. Most poems I write that I like have something that still concerns me when I think about them. With this, it is the final line – an early draft said ‘We’ll face the horrors of the day’. I chose to change it – in my head, whatever the speaker is thinking of is not something that can be faced.
The Hapless Neo-Romantic