Wake the Sun

Seven thousand and one thoughts
scattered like diamonds
on a sidewalk?
In a sewer.
It's funny how the poems
are still just pennies.
-worthless-
And all I want, really,
is a warm hand
to hold
mine.
Strong arms
to hold
me.
But there's a glass heart
shattered in the stillness
and I...
I have the broom
to sweep up
the diamonds.
Enigma, though.
Take pause.
How to scream
loud enough
that I may-
by some off chance of misery and luck-
clasp a diamond to my heart
and hold a little closer.
Seven thousand a two thoughts.
Not counting sheep-
no sleep-
not tonight.