It's not the dripping that I hear, it's just the moaning in her sleep, resting here beside me.
The faucet often awakens me as well.
My sleepless nights we spend together as she restively walks in mysterious dreams unknown to me.
And I hear the dripping, knowing it must be fixed, but how do I repair all of the broken things in our life.
All the things I have to remember. The things she has forgotten from moment to moment.
As the faucet drips and drains away and I lie awake, hearing.
Listening to her whispering, whimpering memories dripping away.