stupor

Leaden-eyed stupor envelops
A feeling of antiquity develops
when I awake in the late night
and rummage for the torchlight

leaving the warm covers behind
and the warm body that held you
in the darkness the urge to find
light does succeed, but fails to do

any good to your sudden despair
at catching a glimpse of your face
reflected in the mirror, and you gaze
at signs of wear and streaks of tear

for in your sleep, you have been crying
and your waking life, you have been lying
to yourself, prostrate while life
tramples on you, in misery and strife

that one look haunts you in that moment
between two worlds, but you still fail to see
what it revealed, what it meant
what has been, what could be

a vague dread engulfs and alarms
but there's no one listening inside
to pay heed or hide, seek or guide
nothing alive that warms