The faint glow of my phone screen
Stirs in me
Emotion I could not unfeel
Thoughts I could not unthink
It's you again
I prop my head on my pillow
Stirring my wife
She does not awake
But your message keeps me awake
Three words
I miss you.
Begs the question though
Do I miss you?
Even I, don't know the answer.
It's the 68th text you've sent me today
One short of our favourite play
Not to act out of impulse
I tap the power button
Turning on, off
Giving me temporary reprieve
From the melee of thoughts
I lay my head down to sleep again
My eyes strain to shut
And my heart
far from rest.
It's 2 AM in Atalanta.
