Sleep Doesn't Help

When love can’t find you.

Sleep doesn't help,
When love can’t find you.
it's your soul that's tired,
of the silent chaos of solitude.

Sleepless nights,
It only rehearses
the shape of your absence
the way your breath
used to bend time
around my chest.

When love can’t find you,
the body forgets
how to be touched.
It remembers
only the echo
the ritual of reaching
without arrival.

My soul is tired
of pretending
the sheets are just drapery,
that the silence
isn’t screaming
your name
in a language
I haven’t unlearned.

There is chaos
in the way I crave you
not loud,
but mythic.
Not wild,
but sacred.
Not yours,
but written
into the stars
before either of us
was born.

So, I lie here,
again,
again,
again
not sleeping,
but summoning
the ghost of your warmth
to explain
what your hands
never dared.