Pillow Poetry

Let me lay with Sleep-
He is the last man who shall claim me tonight.
I have grown weary of
Twirling around
The heart that is clung to the hem of my skirt,
The other that is snagged in the train of a stocking,
And another unhung from the strap of my bra
Black with the secrets of a million humiliations.
Only Sleep can quieten this whore of words
And bleed the tongue of all language but Truth.