Pillow Talk

It's only after midnight
you can force the clock to jump.
Ask the minutes to miss
a tock or two.

My neck is stiff,
muscles sore from pushing
the days away away.

Break two eggs in a pan for one.

Calendars get filled
tearing away pages,
moon becomes new
vaulting the pines.
Only an empty man
is full of himself.
This is sleep without you,
pillow talk
beneath my breath.

Will SchmitComment