I Write Poetry

Sleep Never Comes

Wrapped in a sea of blankets,
sleep never comes.
Sorrow fills the empty spaces
of my mind as I stare
into a ceiling of stars.

I've grown weary
of yearning for you,
of imagined pleasures,
of how your finger would feel
tracing the edges of my mouth
as my heart quickens
with the anticipation
of tasting your
soft, rich lips.

Feeling my delicate body
broken into pieces
by your touch
as the aching warmth
wraps tightly around me.

These images slip away
spiraling downward until 
they disappear,
leaving in me a void. 
Lying awake, I’m fading away 
as sleep never comes.