Random House - I

I, the recluse, dim the lights.
I close the curtains,
Shut the door.
Though I can never forget
What I saw.

Some may say, that
I am ready too soon
For the night. That all I do
Is lay and wait.
The only lasting impression
I make is that of my head sinking
Into my pillow.
The closest I know to human touch
Are the blankets which I have held so much
That without them I feel alone.

But I know so well,
Where I am.
If there were to be the
Slightest change, if the movement
Of a single volume on the shelf
Were to be arranged,
I would see it before my eyes had opened.
So accustomed, so deranged
Yet so fulfilled.

At this stage I hadn't thought
Of cleaning up. My mess is my own
And I can cope with whatever I've misplaced.
I would have never imagined
That you would still be here,
Patiently defaced,
Happily disgraced.