She Sleeps

she sleeps at nights edge in garlands of gravity swaying in the hammock of life’s uncertainty swordmaster surrounded by a body of delight there to be held in my arms through the night slipstream dreams tapestries of light sometimes torrid occasionally out of sight a hungry heart feeds desire cold breath sparks the longing for fire too much of anything no longer inspires while my grasp will not loosen it’s desperate conspire until I squeeze the moment thin and dire to awaken at the edge with no one to share a space once full of longing now empty and bare