The softness of your belly under my wandering fingertips,
humble slumbering sounds bubbling up like prosseco –
a thundering giant reduced to a mess of blankets
and breath warm over bristling hairs.
It's time to join you there,
in sleep.

My tongue and my heart have betrayed me.
And though I curse
these wondering and doubts,
I do not regret
saying those simple words.

We lay together in bed,
and while I showed you all my scars,
you counted all the things
you loved about me
on the tips of your fingers.
You moved closer-
close enough to hear the hammering
of my hopeless heart.

Your elbow brushed mine.
          and I allowed myself to remain within reach.
Close by, where your still-damp hair
begged for my fingers to caress,
reach out - tenderly touch.
It would have been so easy
to weave my fingers through yours
or to rest my head on your shoulder.
But my mind wouldn't leave me
and before I caught them;
my words had betrayed me.

"I really like you"
slipped out somewhere in the dark
and the echo returned to me.
You threw your arm over me then,
pulled me close enough
to breathe the smell of rain and earth
you carry like a perfume.

You let me let you hold me
until we could bear it no more.
And I fell asleep listening
to the rhythm of your breathing
singing sweet songs in the dark.

There was I time,
long ago,
when I could sleep
in peace-
in love.
I didn't need to dream
when you were in my arms-
my dreams could not compare to
the way I could close my eyes
and wake up to the scent of you.
But gone are those days,
and I am left with the memory.
Now, I find my thoughts
running in circles,
always back
to you.

Sleep's not the cure
but it sure as hell helps to
ease some of this pain

6:53 PM
18/2/20

Here I am again.
Waking, moving, thinking, and speaking,
Loving, seeking, hoping, and dreaming.

How did I get here?
I thought one escapes in evening
Yet, tonight I am still here,
But as always I am sleeping.

Turn off the light
Pause the music of time,
And worlds unfold beneath my eyes.

I feel them as if they were pressing upon my skin.
I taste them as if they coated my tongue.
I see them as if they are inches ahead of me.
I know them as real and not,
But real, and not?

Then morning.

Here I am again.
Waking, moving, thinking, and speaking,
Loving, seeking, hoping and breathing.

I was there.
But where?
Not really here, nor there.
But somewhere.

Where I am now?
Here.
Again.
And again.