Ping Ping Ping Pang

It's dark
and the heat vent
whistles one thousand
meaningless songs.
Pillows are stacked up
on the empty side of this bed.
Sleep does not come easy
when every cell inside
is consumed with
omnipresent desire.
Arms wrapped around
tangled sheets.
A leg draped over
a crumpled quilt.
She isn't here
and it feels like
a fever.
The clock on the nightstand
keeps the beat
to a song
the heart
is compelled to sing.
Calling and calling.
Pleading and howling
at colorless night
to relent.
Let sleep come here
in her lithe form.
Let her lay down beside me
rest her head on my shoulder
wrap her leg around my thighs
and bathe me in
rose petal silence.