My grief sleeps with me,
rustling the sheets to keep me awake.
There is no formula to say
when sorrow should not consume.
Tears are the sheep I count.
I toss and turn in my memories,
my hand reaching to touch your face
only to feel air dancing on my fingertips.
If tomorrow I will hurt less,
then please end this night.
Even the moon outside my window
has hidden its face from me.
©Susie Clevenger 2011