The Night of 5-15-2011.

I wrote this during a fit of insomnia. It's a bittersweet poem about someone with whom I had - and still have - a flirtationship. A week before, I was hanging out with her, and I was unhappy with the fact that we didn't do a lot but sleep. I didn't realize at the time that doing nothing with someone special is better than being bored by yourself. A week later, I wrote this.

My mind's inability to calm down some nights
wouldn't be so bad,
as long as I could have the feeling of her in my arms,
the smell of her hair in my face,
the feeling of her breath against my skin,
her legs entwined with mine,
the warmth of her body as she nuzzles into me
and the sound of her plaintive sigh
that tell me that she needs to be held tighter,
the sight of the light from the streetlamp outside
bathing her porcelain skin in an angelic glow,
and her face leaning in for a comforting kiss when she briefly wakes up.
If damnable sins exist,
then one of them would be to take moments like that for granted.