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The Morning After
He curls around me,
His need obvious,
Blatant,
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.
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
Diamond
Sometimes
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~