PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

He thrashes around in his sleep now

Punching the wet pillow

Choking the cold blankets

Kicking the empty air

Yelling at only himself

Sometimes he shouts your name

With eyes shut

And ears deaf

However tears still flee

And his hands stick to his ears

Sometimes he holds his breath

He sleeps longer when he does

Fighting his urges to breathe

Waiting for something

Whether it be your arrival

Or his demise

Sometimes he clenches his wrist

Holding on tighter and tighter

Where the healed scars lay

Until they go back to normal

Until they go back to bloody

He remains unaware of the stinging pain

Until his dirty nails tap his vein

Sometimes he wakes

In the middle of the night

Yelling how his shoulder burns

Dying for it to stop

But to the touch its cold as ice

With a hint of dust

And it’s not both shoulders

Just the one you chose

To lie your sweaty hand upon

As you poisoned his dreams