I sit down to write
and sleep calls to me like a drunk lover.
Come here,
just for a few minutes.
I miss you.
I fight the siren calls.
The tangled blankets and pillows of my unmade bed
are like gentle waves calling me to shore.
I write until my words begin to slur
and the full moon glow of my computer screen
becomes a waning crescent
blackened by the lowering curtains of my eyelids.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry for the Soul
PoetryPoetry for positivity, happiness, and growth. Words for those who know what it's like to take risks, create art, stand out from the crowd, have moments of self-doubt, and moments of triumph.
