Insomnia

I still remember your eyes
and how they made my world open (as wide
as a heart in spring). I still remember
your tears keeping us from our slumber,
sweeping down your cheeks, gentle as a lover’s hand.
When the sun finally rose,
sometimes your eyes would close
like flowers withering, whispering into lands
faraway. Jittering, too late, into broken sleep.
The morning light would seep;
if only there was a way I could comfort you.
Maybe in sleep you saw the blurs of oceans blue
washing our past a little away.
Maybe one day, some day, brittle sleep could stay
long enough for you to find in the sand
your sunburnt smile again.
You know, I still remember your smile
and how it opened the world like wings for a while.