Starving Artist Ink.

*scribbled in my journal at 5 am…

I lay here, staring into his eyes as he sleeps. Softly breathing in the dark night air. his mouth relaxed, red lips pout. I memorize every inch of his face…he is the most beautiful man. The way his dark eyebrows curve over his eyes. The pink tint peeking through his delicate eyelids, long black curls of eyelashes…

Deep red flush to his cheeks-the same from when he was a small little boy. Soft deep breath in and out. in and out. I regulate my breathing to match his. It soothes me-like a warm blanket, like the ocean waves rocking me, engulfing me, gently lulling me to sleep.

I look deep into his eyelids, wondering what lies beyond them.

What realm is he transfixed in? Suddenly, I feel very much alone. He's not here-he's in another world…

I make a bit of noise, willing his eyes to open-but its no use. He's left me-I'm stuck here.

[insomnia]

The cold glow of the computer monitor. the 'tappity tap tap' of the keys. The disappointment as the clock carries on ticking and the eyes that never grow heavy with tiredness.

So I crawl back into bed with him…matching my breathing with his.

In…and out. In…and out. Until we meet in the same world, with our eyes wide shut.