A simple spectre wrecks the calm.

O' Sleep, his absence bids the morn.

His dreams he seems to scatter far,

yet leaves my bedroom door ajar.

Although I grip, he slips my palm,

and so I greet the ruthless dawn.

O' Sleep, I'll leap at where you are,

because I've counted every star.

Putting pixel to page,
he types.

Tap.
Tap.
Tap.

Fingers flurry away,
he swipes.

Zap.
Zap.
Zap.

Showing symptoms of age
he writes.

Crap.
Crap.
Crap.

I don't.

I do not mean to flatter, when
I say you are the moon.

Your existence lies so distant,
Yet in my sight you loom.

A tide I am to your expanse,
you push and pull my heart.

Though years it's been since we did speak,
your smile tears me apart.

A sun you've found, to orbit now,
perhaps it's for the best.

Some lips, I hope, will eclipse yours,
till then my soul won't rest.