PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As I lie in bed half-asleep thinking of you,

I crawl my fingers along the base

of my pillows and sheets

and imagine every wrinkle or cold edge

A piece of you—

If only I could open my window

and whisper your name into the night

and at once, you came flying 

over loud cities and sleepy towns

to me:

I would not have to think of 

these tender wisps of air 

from my little fan,

as threads of your hair 

tickling my face,

or stare at the ceiling for hours 

trying to divine your image

from the little pores that pepper it—

Yet, I am not always limited to reverie;

For at times, as I lay in this lonely bed,

I feel your soft face brush against my chest

though you are miles and miles away

from me. 

But perhaps it is because

you are doing, and thinking the same as I,

and ultimately, we exist within a love

that is bodiless.