No Sleep

No sleep.
No sighs.
No simpered snores.
I need incentive to slide in bed,
wrap myself in sheets of dreams, technicolor.
If you would let me dream of you,
I would roll myself into the pastry flake fantasies
filled with my fairy wishes.
The black-blooded creatures of the night crawl out
hiding behind my bedpost, their little hands held to their hearts,
feeling the red light and pulse of their desire to be real,
for some gust of magic to sweep round them and turn them gold
But when I call your name and you don't come,
your absence chases them away like a cold breeze.
Bed time is a fine hour for fables
but only if the sheets are warm from you.