Sleep and Jelly Beans

by Toni G.

My boyfriend pops sleeping pills as if they’re jelly beans, sugar-coated
candy with the only sinister intention being the rotting
away of his teeth. I find him curled up on the floor
in the bathroom most nights. Other times, he’s laid out
in the laundry room or hallway. Once I found him on the elevator floor.
He spent four hours going up and down.
He claims it’s because he likes the chill of tile on his skin
while he sleeps; bed linen and carpet stifles him.

Babe, would you call my doctors and ask for my refills?
He whispers this in his half-asleep state. He frequents
two doctors, telling each a different tale about his sleepless
nights. Once the prescriptions are filled, he tosses
them into one large bottle. He claims looking at the assortment
of colors is the first step in getting a restful night’s sleep.

You’re going to kill yourself one day; overdose on your cornucopia
of sleep aids. Never, he yawns. My pills are my friends. I know they
will never hurt me. I sit in bed wondering how long I’ll put up
with his behavior. Love makes us condone crazy shit.

Nature calls and I walk to the bathroom remembering to step over
the heap laying on the bathroom floor. Maybe he’s right, I think,
as the bottom of my feet hit the cool bathroom tiles.
I give in and lay down next to him. For the first time in weeks,
I sleep right through the night.

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Toni G. writes poetry and short fiction. Additional work may be found at Right Hand Pointing, Anti-Heroin Chic and an upcoming piece in Theta Wave. Follow her on Twitter @thedimpledpoet.

(And don’t miss Toni’s The Selfishness of Nature. – Elephants Never)