sunsets and sleep

we're
close
to the
end

now, I'd ask you
to save some space
for future deserts
served close to hot and cold,

on a
beach
where
you'd run

away, waking up
hungover and feeling for
the alarm clock the
hotel never provides
I'd feel a note heavily written
with heavy ink
that tears through the page
blackening the desk,

and through
a haze,
a razzle-dazzle
haze of last-nights-and-late-nights
you're sweet point would be made,
that one that burns
and conjures steam from the sea
flips the black-light-night-light
switch over the ocean sky
glow-in-the-dark clouds,
leaving me all alone
with sunsets and sleep