Sleep and Making my Bed

Soft as a shelled urging voice,
I have felt this comfort you sent me,
a sleep that would have passed over me,
you gracefully sent through my door,
and I find myself apologizing for holding on to this moment,
reading your face, the only one that seems to listen before speaking.

The face that leads me home,
your words outcry my chaotic choir,
even when I do not want the truth,
it is placed at my bedside like a cup of water,
stubborn yet nourishing past my lying senses.