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Description
One of these days I’ll get more sleep, I’ll lapse
into  not just realization but hold
the full weight of what never closing my
eyes has done to my erasing mind; I’m out
of time, and time is when you see the sun
hide away, fall to its knees behind
the upstairs landing of the universe
and find its strength again, lift itself toward
the highest point in its self esteem, stop
letting promises and failed holidays hold back
its unwavering potential, within
twelve hours that pass so quickly whether
you or I are high or within the ground.

Funny how it rains all day and funny
when the day seems gone and the worn left side
of the futon is the only place you feel
remotely at home - not by my side, not in
my bed and certainly not anywhere near
my arms; funny how when it rains I can
always find an escape in yours.  Waking
the neighbors with our all-morning  tapping
on keyboards, connection through fingertips
and how my fingertips ache to reach right
across this pillow chat stray in the soft
and assuring hair on your scalp and lay
down against your perfect, tired body.

How romantic is distance? Sense is
starting to see now that all these clouds
follow me only to break upon contact
with you, sense is starting to see just how
hard you’ve been making me smile and pain
has found a reason to stop all this aching.

Description
One of these days I’ll get more sleep, I’ll lapse
into  not just realization but hold
the full weight of what never closing my
eyes has done to my erasing mind; I’m out
of time, and time is when you see the sun
hide away, fall to its knees behind
the upstairs landing of the universe
and find its strength again, lift itself toward
the highest point in its self esteem, stop
letting promises and failed holidays hold back
its unwavering potential, within
twelve hours that pass so quickly whether
you or I are high or within the ground.

Funny how it rains all day and funny
when the day seems gone and the worn left side
of the futon is the only place you feel
remotely at home - not by my side, not in
my bed and certainly not anywhere near
my arms; funny how when it rains I can
always find an escape in yours.  Waking
the neighbors with our all-morning  tapping
on keyboards, connection through fingertips
and how my fingertips ache to reach right
across this pillow chat stray in the soft
and assuring hair on your scalp and lay
down against your perfect, tired body.

How romantic is distance? Sense is
starting to see now that all these clouds
follow me only to break upon contact
with you, sense is starting to see just how
hard you’ve been making me smile and pain
has found a reason to stop all this aching.