I can’t sleep on my side
because the moment my ear
hits the pillow, my heartbeat
hits my head
and an image hits the backs
of my eyes,
of you talking about lies
and absently stroking your thumb
across your wrist,
feeling for your pulse
like a child searches the skies
for a wish,
reminding yourself that you
are alive.
your heartbeat is the shooting star
and mine is the emptiness it left
behind.
I can’t sleep on my side
because existing gives no breaks
and my heartbeat
and your far-off hand
make me so tired that I
stay awake.