You told me you didn’t want to sleep. I wonder who ever wants to sleep anyway. From the end of my rope to the tip of the iceberg I cant come up with a reason to close my eyes.

I’ve reasoned with myself that I’ve spent half of my days asleep. I want to keep just this one. Just this once. I can bargain with the stars for one night. A few restless hours that they can have back in the morning.

I stared at you through the darkness and listened to the sound of you blink and thought the same thing. I wonder if you heard me. Then we won’t. We’ll just pretend. You ask me what I mean and I tell you everything the moon has in store for us. I tell you about my deal with the stars, how I owe then all my daylight for this one. I tell you to dream of the pier and I’ll dream of the sinking sand below your feet. I’ll dream of the beach and you’ll dream of the tides washing over the shore. I’ll dream the ship and you’ll dream the sails. I’ll dream the rain that salts the shore and the Atlantic swims out of your eyes and through my brain. And I’ll dream it right back to you. Maybe if you shut your eyes tight and listen close you can dream up a place to run away. Some place where the grass grows the color of your laugh and the sand sinks you up to your knees so you can never go away.

Never go away.

I’m still pretending as we make up a list of things that should have stayed. Sunday nights and midnight runaways and October skies and august fires. I realize I’ve been pretending for years. My whole life is make believe. I decide I’ve spent every dollar of my time. I turn up to speak. Are you still pretending? But you’re already asleep. I wonder how much you heard. You wake up the next morning and tell me you dreamed of the waves. The spot between the sky and the sea. Where the sun meets the sand and the atmosphere hugs the earth. You dreamed I’d meet you there during a hurricane. I tell you I’ve been there since the last wave. I listen to your chest and wonder what we’d sound like underwater. Sometimes your chest sends messages across the world. I imagine the pulse of the waves syncing to your chest. So your heart controlled the sea. Water rising when you’re angry and sinking when you’re sad.

I wonder if you’d let me be your lifeboat. Waiting with the hurricane to drag you out to sea.