your bed keeps texting 

it misses our warmth 

 

now sleep is complaining 

we’ve done enough 

 

reading and writing 

for one day 

 

it’s past time 

to put those ambitions away

 

cold at first 

partially out of spite 

 

it then wraps us

in its arms warm and tight 

 

we move one way 

turning our heads 

 

whispering to its pillow 

deepest secrets 

 

sometimes it fills our minds 

with fancies we almost touch

 

only to cruelly pull them away 

at the sound of the alarm 

 

teasing us at every boring 

meeting all day long