It's dark now.
Another day has passed.
The turmoil of my bed,
like some storm tormented beach,
is empty.
Here in my chair,
sleepless.. ..tortured,
I drag my fingers through my hair
and press my palms against my eyelids;
but the feeling of taut nerves
jangling through me, makes me
flinch, and I begin to rock.
More and more, I wrack
my brain for images or
islands of serenity.
What comfort could I find
when you're not here?
I think back to when
we first embraced.
The sun shone on us then.
But, even as we drew close
that very first time;
I thought I smelled the scent of rain.