Even The Nigth Wont Sleep Poem by Joshua Bantum

Here it is,
4: 30 in the morning,
and I still can not sleep.
For days,
it has been silent outside my closet,
which is my humble home,
My only window is frosted over like
the ocean's fog it carries above it's skin,
cutting off infinity from my eyes as I stare past.
I pretend outside is a different country,
a garden we helped but grow,
became together
a part of something real,
rooted deeply beneath the earth.
For hours my body beats,
in solace without cause,
without motive and without thought,
it beats like waves crashing sand,
pounds like thunder
shattering clouds,
trembles my skin
like a pond tendered by rain.
my carpet bed gathers my heat,
and prepares my tomb
for sleep that may not come.

For seconds,
the moon has us both beneath it's eye,
and that is the only connection we share.
You have not,
my heat,
nor my breath,
my voice,
nor my chest,
these words are futile,
but still can not rest,
grasping at an emotion that tries,
to try not.
Tonight we lay awake separate
and alone,
watching the stars tare down the moon,
the moon pull down the sky,
the sun, to shove it back high.
For what else can I do,
even the Night will not sleep,
and if she may,
she won't sleep with me.