It's late and I should be sleeping, but I wanted to post some new poetry in time for the weekend. This is one of my personal favorites, written about five years ago. I would like to write more in this style, but I've got to touch on some pretty serious pain to write something like this. I don't want to ask for that kind of creative inspiration! :) Enjoy and please comment if you do, or even better, please subscribe via RSS or email. Thanks, as always, for the support!
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I'm sleeping on sheets
sewn from your tobacco-colored hair.
The midsummer breeze, watery and airless,
ruffles billowy curtains. Abrupt; It startles
and wakens me.
I sip liquid with intent to cool my weary body,
but I keep choosing the glass that's filled with stale tears.
My lofty hollow is awash with photographs and memories
but they fail to comfort me.
At times they disturb. They prevent me from peace.
Tonight they prevent me from sleep.
I would cradle myself but these arms are not yours.
They lack the warm spice that defines you and ignites me.
Instead I ask for my eyelids to close, for dreams
to erase the ache that broke in
and made its sad home in my head.
One wish comes true,
the other dies in the humid night.
I fall asleep empty and old.