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Cafe Del Soul

The Sheets Were Cold
By JC Crumpton -- Contributing Poet -- [Email This Item]

When I opened my eyes ladened heavily with sleep
as if the Sandman aimed to protect me through eternal slumber
--a Rip Van Winkle lost in space and time--
from the horrors of this and every waking world,
I rolled over, turning my eyes to where your head once lay,
looking to the side that brought to my heart and mind
such raging emotions as love and peace and hate and chaos
all in a single breath for the duration of eternity.

My hand slid across this void of nothingness--
down along the worn ridges of the mattress where
I can remember the curve of your hip resting beneath
the protection and warmth of my strong arms;
here where your head once lay, where your eyes
opened to shine brightly at me long ago, but near the end,
dimly lit by anger and belief in the proven falsehoods of friends
--fingertips and the palms of hands felt the sheets were cold.

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