Before I sleep, I just want to say:

I said that

Sleep was the coward’s route to escaping reality

A way to paint over black truths with white paint

A way to delude myself with dreams and fantasies so that I wouldn’t have to focus on what’s real

But he said

Sleep is a kindred soul who welcomes all who come, the weary and the broken

That she comforts those who mourn and rejuvenates them so that they can face the day

Sleep is a pause, a breath taken between a rush of jumbled words that flow out of mouths like a coursing river

And so I slept soundly that night.