Quiet Hours

I long for the quiet hours;

Two in the morning and your breath upon my skin,

All softness in sleep

Where our jagged edges meld into

Blurred lines.

Insomnia;

Because I am glued to you

And i don't know if I'll ever

Look away long enough

To sleep.

Her is where we fit

Puzzle pieces

Into the gaps between

Our fingers,

Yours and mine.