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.