Sleeping

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The sinewed shape of your muscles
imprinted against my soft skin,
molding it finely
to the hard pattern of you.

I wanted only
to hold you in my arms,
as we treaded water together
through the dark current
of dreamtime,
for you to anchor me
against the undertow
of the Unconscious.

But the tides were strong.

I hit a snag
within that treacherous sea,
and crashed against the rocks,
emerging barnacled by lucid fate,
into the harsh wake
of wakefulness.

You left
because I was snoring.