My nights consist of conversations whispered into a pillow,
And your voice on the other end
Keeps me afloat while I try not to drown
In a rolling sea made of white sheets;
Sometimes, I wonder
If your laugh will ever betray you
And give away a flushed face, a racing pulse?
Or is it just my imagination
That the owner of the voice, already being pulled into sleep
Could feel the same way.
Still,
I take in every sound,
Rich and throaty laughter, and I
Memorize it.
Even if it’s just a dream
I will fall asleep
With your last words trailing on the edge of my curved lips.