Because at nightwhen others are sleeping, I drown myself in poetry.

You keep asking me about my past lovers and whether I still have feelings for them. You become upset when I don’t keep a straight face. Yet, it is not my fault. I can’t help but smile when I think about later tonight and how my fingers will through comb your hair.

Last night, I repeated your name like a mantra before falling asleep. Somehow the simple pleasure of uttering your name, and the added pleasure of hearing your name was heaven for me and I didn’t go to bed until dawn. Isn’t it odd how your name, a single word associated with you, can bring another person such joy that they inflict insomnia upon themselves and call it a blessing?

You must be more alive than life.You must see darkness danceand hear silence sing.You must be more awake than lightfor we aren’t born sleepingand we shouldn’t live sleeping.Only then will death’s slumberbecome sweet.