The bed of a sleepwalker grows cold at night

Sheets strewn around

Left behind by the body they are used to holding

The bed of a sleepwalker steeps in loneliness

It knows the shape of the skin it’s been abandoned by and wonders where it’s gone

The bed cannot serve it’s one purpose and wishes for an insomniac instead

An insomniac stews in the pillows, late nights, and dark ceilings

Thoughts running farther than a sleepwalker can travel

The bed of an insomniac lays warm but still

Serving as a placeholder to cradle a body not fit for the nighttime

Sheets and pillows are not at fault for wanting to feel the weight of sleep

But the human body cannot succumb to a still night when the air is full of dread