its 2 am and the clock is dripping down my eyes
screaming at me to get some sleep, threatening
to wind the days slower if some part of me refuses to settle down.
the edges of this photograph are burning and curling in
to the center where i'm bent over your shoulder and smiling,
and there's no weeding through hundreds of tangled threads
just to reach out and touch you. for now anyway, there's a thick opaque
nothing between that swallows my arm every time i extend to reach
just a piece of whats too far to touch and turns me back to a molasses ivory white,
and i fall down on my bed, and the sheets mourn in lonliness
at the warmth of just one body.