better off in sleep

it must be on purpose
that i say her name so softly
between such long pauses.
while i disrupt her hair
steel jaws chew garbage
right outside our window.
she sleeps through the menace.
i am whispering now,
trying to be softer
than the hardwood floor
and the loud machinery
that grinds upon itself
endlessly.
i want to wake her up
so she can go to bed.
like a child's hesitant apology
i call her again, knowing
she's better off in sleep.
this time she awakes,
and i feel like a murderer.