The Morning After

He curls around me,

His need obvious, 


Breath hot on my neck

Misting into hair

As muffled sighs sound

Like goodbyes, 

And it's six o'clock,

Woken by his touch, 

There's no hope for sleep now,

My soul filled with

An ocean of tears

At the distance between us,

For I want to stay

As I want to run away, 

But my feet are rooted between. 

I just want to sleep. 

Let the morning sun rise

Putting this pain behind me,

The sound of his soft cries. 

I'm sick to my core,

I can't take this anymore, 

I can't sleep, 

I can't eat,

My brain won't stop churning

And turning and burning,

But I've no place to spill

My worries and fears

Save the blank page

Which never responds. 

Diamond_Wills_New_War's picture

Having no one to talk to

Having no one to talk to sucks. I know. So you turn to the page and sometimes it helps and sometimes it makes it worse. Whatever outlet you have I hope it helps.

Long days and pleasant nights


allets's picture



like an aside, the emotion spills over the edges of the write. Control sets the sentiment aside and the valid "loss" imagery becomes prevalent and packed with the shadow of the sentiment. Excellent poem. Devices work, construct is solid. ~Just Bein' Lady A~