Seeing Without Sight

It's three o'clock in the morning
and I've barely slept for thinking of him.
You'd think my brain would be weary,
chasing him around my head,
trying to jump into his thoughts.
If I could meet him somewhere, in a dream,
I know I'd find it easier to sleep,
because his nights seem less troubled than mine.
I always find peace lying beside him there
and poems don't ooze from my heart;
because he's my soul, my poetry.

He tells me he's never far away
and even when his mind wanders a little
and I feel myself stumble,
it always finds its way back to mine,
in time to catch me before I fall.

Any words I write or metaphors I use,
all seem like cliches,
because I miss him, plain and simple,
and long to see his face again;
to rest easy in his smile.
All I can do is believe in soul mates
and seek comfort in his words -

I must sleep now
because yesterday, on the telephone, he told me
he could see black shadows under my eyes.