It’s when I’m most nervous

reliving it all again,

a redundant emotion, 

a retelling of truths.

I’m laying in bed now, 

my dog sleeping on my thigh.

It’s this moment I’m tense

wondering just what is next.

I slipped walking up steps

tonight and imagined

being carried out one day.

Or perhaps tomorrow I

won’t wake up in the morning.

It’s all these dreams and

imagined nightmares

entertain my internal

mystique that waits alone.

I suppose I’ll sleep now

and leave fantasy alone.