there is nothing about this face that you love
it comes on in the morning and goes off at night
sleep an interruption in the dream of unhappiness

if flight could take you to another love
to a warmth you have not felt since the fall
a bed into which you could drop your burning soul
to be cooled in the green embrace of oblivion
I would buy you a coupon 

I have not been greedy, even in my thoughts
no molesting forays into your realm of the bed
the sheets pulled taut like the nerves in my head

no longer imagining your childish grunts
or your face over me in the looming dark 
my dream is elsewhere in the libinous loam
dark haired beauties in secret places
begging fulfillment