Myself

Here I lay,

undefined

half awake in the nearly perfect dark,

the babe on one hand

my love on the other.

Both vital to me and

draining.

I sustain them,

(or so I think),

I am comfort and regulation, too.

In these wee hours I wonder

who am I without them?

Who could I be, left alone

to my very cruel devices?

Not who I was, on the edge,

the very verge of destruction.

Now I’m just uncomfortable

under my own microscope.

What will you do when it’s

your turn?

Which way is up and down?

What path is yours?

It’s all the same, though,

isn’t it?

Frustration mingled with joy.

Boredom laced with promise.

That moment where night turns to dawn.

At least, I hope so.