allison labine

You dream of the scent of a woman’s skin;
Your woman’s. Her legs
Entwined with yours, her hair the
Music your fingertips play.

But you do not sleep.

You dream of eyes that only speak the
Language of love;
Your child’s. Soft cheek against your bare
Chest, gentle baby slumbering to the steady
Beat of your heart.

Still, you do not sleep.

You dream of silence you do not fear;
Sound you do not run from.
Sacrifice that keeps you whole, but
Still you do not sleep.

Still, you do not sleep.

Tucking a crinkled letter in your pocket,
You stand. On bruised legs,
Inside a shattered body
Blood-stained as the setting sun,

You rise and do not sleep.

 -Allison LaBine

Image © Allison LaBine

This entry was posted on November 11, 2014 at 8:05 pm and is filed under Poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.