The informal magedy

I grow weary of trying to fall asleep between these digital sheets.

I want to live beside you without the smoke fire on my breath.

Without this heat of pain within my chest.

Upon the distant shores of wakefulness is where your beauty truly may rest.

If we are held so close and dear, why are these identities held so near?

Cleaned but still so dirty underneath.

If you come by me and you find I push you away for a moment, it is to pull closer this destiny of a truer understanding of us both.