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Sleepless

That sleep leaves me barren on unforeseeable whispers, 
doesn't bother me
That anxiety attacks on mid nights like this, 
doesn't really bother me
You know, that  tingly feeling 
of fear and uncertainty 
creeps up at the back of my throat 
and travels through the gut like a vile poison, 
and it doesn't bother me either
What does, is that I calm fiery heartbeats 
by promising myself that two fortnights later 
I would be in your arms 
and the wetness of your lips on my drought skin 
would make it easier to pass nights as these.
What really bothers me is that 
I promised myself not to fall in love, ever, not even remotely,

And look, where we are.

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