A Poem That Does Not Make Me Sleep Poem by RIC BASTASA

it is still your face
i have avoided looking at you for years
for i must simply
be hurting myself
crushing myself
to this
unrequited longings
something
that my heart pretends
to accept
my mouth denies
my hands
cold on the railing
on cruel nights

how many sighs do i have to
throw to this wall?
my body has taken a lot of changes
siding to the left
to the right
and could not stay that long in the middle
i bury my face on the pillow
i cannot breath
i cannot also die
dishonorably without having told them that i have fallen
into this abyss of love
that is killing me
so gently
like slow suicide unnoticed
by intimacies

i open the window
let air in
i sit on the chair on the side of my bed
turn on the table lamp
the paper is ready and the pen is pouring its ink on the
mantel

how can i promise myself that i can now sleep
and not write again?

i, this liar,
this painful heart
looking for the coolest
herbal cure

you are the leaf in the forest
that i have never found
where...