Thieves

Now? I have no need for sleep!
I kid myself: struggling to reap
Sunlight’s low-wan humour;
avoiding then, dark room suture.

You asked me to stop reading (in bed):
‘Monologue’ would be better said;
The subject, not my voice, too trying:
So to myself, in well-spoken silence.

Twelve hours lain, three of sleep,
My long standby, a low power cheat;
I wake to re-design, across my life,
You may struggle to be the same wife.

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