Tagged: insomnia

in the middle of

in the middle of
the night, my thigh is nestled
between your thighs – there

is an itch the size of your
slumber, waiting to be scratched
.
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we do not know our

we do not know our
appetites until we cross
paths with it – sometimes

in broad daylight, other times,
in the middle of the night
.
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at the edge of mid-

at the edge of mid-
night, we cling to each other
more tightly than a

sinner to his gods – not until
dawn’s early light do we repent
.
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midnight rain, on the

midnight rain, on the
other side of this window-
pane, i am drowning
.
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an ear against your

an ear against your
chest and images from
tonight’s viewing of
the latest Underworld
in the franchise
beneath my eyelids, i
am once again
wondering whose
heart will stop
beating first, and
would the one that
continues alone be okay
with succumbing to
such guilty pleasures
.
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i love you more

i love you more
than the chicken noodle
soup you made from
scratch last night when
i insisted on soup,
more than the carbon
monoxide alarm you
bought when you accepted
we could be dying, more
than all the kisses at
the threshold of departures
and arrivals, more than
b-flat minor, fingers
in a good book, toes
cooling in the washington
square park fountain,
i love you more than
writing about you when
you are asleep, yes,
still more
.
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and so it is, i

and so it is, i
am once again
over- and under-
thinking things like
you without a primer,
over- and under-
sensing the range for
exploration, the
extent to which
we can still
fumble,
over- and under-
flexing the muscle
that gets me most
in trouble
.
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y