In the palm of your hand

Sleep comes late,
if it comes at all
Your face keeps me awake,
the cruel remains of what I used to crave
A smile I loved,
a touch that came too easily
I try to remember the beautiful parts
The expressions
The moments when I felt whole
But all that remains is a bitter empty
a longing to hear you say ‘you’ll be my angel’

I lie awake and wonder why
I couldn’t be

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