How am I supposed to sleep
knowing you’re awake?

I’ll just sit here, thinking long thoughts
and writing short things,

keeping active, as my brain runs
out of ideas, out of letters

and a song from yesterday, today
plays in my head, lending rhythm to my words.

How am I supposed to hear that verse
without singing along?

I’ll just sit here, tapping my fingers
on the crumpled sheets.

I’ll just sit here, marking paper
with cheap ink and easy lines

and tonight, my writing finds itself
alone again, while I sit

knowing you’re awake.
I’ll write my way to morning,

find a path among the short things I’ve written
til I can say “goodnight.”