Surrounded by a pitch black world of bird cries that squeak and creak through these paper thin walls.
Sweat coats the inside of my thighs,
And I peel one leg out from under the other and place it on top,
Only to do it another forty-five thousand times in the next fifty minutes.
The A/C kicks on,
Chasing away the thick, muggy Kansas air,
And humming a soft lullaby.
My eyes grow heavy and sink.
A quarter of the way open.
My train of thought comes to a slow crawl
Into the station for the next eight hours.
The room grows silent.
I am at peace.
Just about to doze...
A low rasp, a plea for air rises from your lungs and transforms
Into a livid growl.
A beast starving for oxygen!
I am startled by the disturbance,
Frightfully jump starting my train of thought.
Off it goes, at full speed.
The monster inside your lungs belts out in a blind rage!
Yet you are oblivious.
I shake you softly,
Press my lips to your forehead,
And suggest that you lie on your side.
Silence at last.
You snore like a wild grizzly, my darling.
But I still love you.
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