It’s hard to convince myself to sleep.
I worry that another dream of you will come
and I will be left with more questions than answers.

(Why did dream you ask me to go camping?
You were cryptic and suggestive;
I was confused and scared of expectations.
But how romantic of you, to plan a trip for us,
where all I had to do was pack an overnight bag.)

It’s easier to wake up alone
than fall asleep alone,
knowing that, in the waking hours,
I have full awareness of our situation,
while dream me
only searches for the hypotheticals.

The last few nights,
I’ve tossed and turned,
unknowingly searching for your body in the dark.
All I have is an unforgiving pillow,
cold from the drafty window.

Have I told you how cold it is in my room?
Averaging 60 degrees each night,
I have to sleep with socks on.
Even the cat doesn’t sleep with me now.