There are some nights sleep becomes coy with me. Those nights, I watch behind the curtains, the serenity and beauty of how a busy road filled with souls have quietened.
I ponder on how young people, old men, women and suckling children who walk up and down the street had slept, not knowing of such beauty. I ponder how those young sweet men who hastily walk down the street had missed such beauty. All because of sleep.
This night, at 2am, he becomes coy with me, aloofly. He holds me tightly in the palms of his hands, gentle like an egg. Then he tightens up a little. His first squeeze is nice. Then a quick hug. Soft into his defenselessness, a little more, the hurt begins. The hurt deepens like a cut.
I thought of winning him always with my wiles any time he comes, but he always wrenches out a smile that slides fear around me. A fear with a throbbing headache. One that ends with emptiness in my soul. My body is no longer mine.