I could remember the myriad of stars
sequined on the black canvas,
and sleep will not come to me yet.
My thoughts are the broken-winged bird
awaiting the breeze of uplifting sleep
the open window , the sun fallen to other skies
somewhere there is chaos and pain
and flowers unseen, untouched by life
but here, and now , there is this
your arm outstretched across my chest
my fingertips traversing the landscape of your skin
between us time has ended,beyond this there is nothing