4:00 A.M. Fever

Foundry Co Creative Commons

Restless, my eyes torn awake,
Tossing and turning on would-be dreams;
Of this lot, what shall I make?
Your sleep depriving schemes

Pounding in my chest,
Throbbing deep inside;
Leaving little room for rest,
Your warmth alone survives

A wisp in the air,
An ache for your touch;
Is bed-teasing fair?
(I can only handle so much)

Heavy eyes, street-shine,
Sink deeply into you;
Fall away, everyday,
The taste of night-ache dew