Laid here counting roof tiles...

two at a time

my eyes heavy
but my lids in denial
of sleep

she whispers in my ear

are you awake
then adds
good
with a grin

WHY NOT abandon one basic need
for another
why not rest
upon anothers flesh
soft and warm
scented with the promise
of dreams
insomnia so cruely denies

Pillow pressed beneath her back
giving support
so sorely needed
amid the punctuated night time prayers

God called upon in blasphemous tongues
praised and cussed
in unison of mouths wet and open

Sheets that offer no warmth soon cast off
replaced by heat of breath
and perspiration sweet and salty
to the lips
kissing
nibbling
biting
nails find no fault inscribing thank yous
in reddened ink

Falling back exhausted yet wide awake
as by my side
cuddled in she sleeps
smiling

and I close my eyes and think myself blessed
for every night the first
for we two
have yet to sleep
together.

I wrote your name
and drew a circle
around it.
And waited.
I thought you might
appear at my window
but I only saw a
streetlight and the moon
and no you.

You are unattainable
in the best ways.
Like the way I know
you'll never hurt me
because the possibility of us
is slim-to-none
and you'll never get the chance.
Like the way it's easy
for me to find you
charming
because I can't see
your bad pieces.
And the way I won't
be able to write about you
will be good for my brain.

When we meet a person we subconsciously inspect each feature
We intuitively notice flaws and perfections
the less we see a person the less our eyes renew the image in our minds
we focus so ******* reinventing an exact, lifelike image
causing it to eventually slip away
so we try harder, pushing the image even further
until sooner or later we begin to question ourselves
and a cloud of mist forms and impedes our ability to visualize
creating more distance between the memory and ourselves
and no matter how hard we resist
we gradually lose pieces of the face that will never reappear
and wish our eyes could mend the broken image
just one last time
no one has solved the mystery of how to capture this memory
or even hold it for eternity
so as victims we watch it slip away
we helplessly forget
and pray for one last chance to remember
not the ambiguous, blurred remembrance
but the clear, flawless one

Unrealistic expectations
are my forte.
I keep them in my sweater
pockets
for when I'm feeling hopeful.
And I get them out
against my better judgement.
No
no
no
no
no
why'd I do this again?