My Mind’s Aflight

The insomnia hasn’t completely gone.

I have been staring at the inside of my eyelids

for three hours.

Tracing the blood vessels lit by the memory

of my phone’s bright backlight.

I think of her. Think how much easier it might be

to sleep if I was beside her, wonder if,

hope,

that I’ll get the chance one day.

Preferably multiple days.

The sleep spray on my pillows soothes my nose

but not my mind. My brain is busy,

shipping out static along my neurons,

gives me restlessness in answer to my weary.

It’s still like this, sometimes,

and that’s okay.

I make peace with myself.

Feel my eyes get heavier, my limbs

stiffen into the temporary rigor mortis

of impending sleep.

Write this poem before it, too, like so many things,

drifts away on a dream

that is so soon in coming

that I cannot even see it.