Allow me to spin this reckless cliché.
Sleepless nights I lay bare.
Waiting for a love that does not exist.
Where is the reprieve from the heartache
I do not deserve?
I trace my fingertips across my skin.
Feel the curves, the dips, the dimples
above my derriere.
I place my palm against my heart.
Feel it's irregular beat.
Another night I lay awake,
Begging rest to bless my body.
I drag the sheet across my skin,
The closest thing to love I have.
I am not sad. I'm safe this way.
Is it longing that gives my mind
no amnesty?
Or am I losing my sanity, the way I've lost my ability to slumber.
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Submitted by:
alwayswanting
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