identity of insomnia

October 26, 2010 Posted by the writer

identity of insomnia

We’re awake at 4am.
He grabs a fistful of my hair.
‘You’re sweating.’

I am naked. Shivering beneath a single cotton sheet.
He can’t sleep. He’s smoking cigarettes.
In the dark.

I want to tell him things.
I want to tell him
Everything.

His hand on me. Anywhere. Controlling my breath.
Cradling my expression.
Making promises as the sun considers rising.

One hour later.
Fingers barely touching. The shape of his back.
Soft. Hard. Grooves of ink. Tattooed cuts.

Moments are passing. With me.
Without having to be anyone else.
His heavy embrace wraps a proposal.

Speaking to me in another language.
Lips whisper to shoulders. Down my arms.
The back of my neck.

Formless shape of affinity. Fluttering.
Sliding up my calves. Across my thighs.
Turning me over in dawn’s violet-grey kiss.

The taste of his fingers.
The scent of his shoulders.
The weight of one look.

‘I can’t sleep.’

About the writer

avatar
gretchen's brain is preoccupied with words.

6 Responses to identity of insomnia

  1. avatar Dan says:

    That’s hot!

  2. avatar Anonymous says:

    whoa!haha very intense

  3. avatar rickmenace says:

    that to[p commment wass mme ma

  • RSS Subscribe

  • Who's Online

    2 visitors online now
  • Select Archives

  • Disclaimer

    FollowMeToNYC is a creative processing ground which expresses individual ideas that often change with the tides. Naturally, these ideas do not reflect those of any of my employers, or anyone else you might see me wandering down the street with one day.
  • Popular Topics

 
Content Protected Using Blog Protector By: PcDrome.